Questioning Destiny
by KylaBosch
Summary: Upon discovering the truth of his origins Albert Wesker learns that nothing is as it is seems and that destiny is not always within one's command. *Wesker/Claire*
1. Failure

**Author's Note:** This collection of vignettes are a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:** A huge thank you goes to AceofHadeon for taking the time to go over this for me and ensuring its all spiffy good! =D

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><p>Albert Wesker stared at the virus in the mirror, and the virus stared right back at him in silent accusation.<p>

_Failure. _

His fists clenched tightly around the edge of the sink as memories of the evening's events accosted his thoughts. After years of searching for answers, Wesker confronted the very man from whom it all began: Oswell Spencer. The meeting had been a double-edged sword, a fruitful victory and a horrifying revelation. Spencer was dead, yet the old scientist continued to exert control over him. Distracted by the weight of newfound knowledge, Wesker lowered his guard; it cost him more than he could have anticipated. Now Jill was gone, along with the samples of his latest creation: a prototype variant of the Progenitor virus he created.

Victory always was a fickle lover.

Albert suspected another was attempting to interfere with his work; the events of past the night had confirmed it. He cursed himself for being weak, and then cursed himself for wasting so much time chasing after the man who both built and destroyed his life. He should have been perfecting his virus instead.

It was not the first mistake he had made in the recent days. The realization troubled Wesker more than he cared to admit.

Albert was, if anything, predictable - at least to himself. The virus that coursed in his blood had robbed him of most all emotions, ensuring a constant sense of clarity no matter the situation. Even before the progenitor virus, he never suffered doubts or bouts of insecurity. Such mindsets were for the weak. As a child, he was proud of whom he was and the man he was meant to become. That is, until that night. With a single statement the aged megalomaniac had tipped the scales, leaving Wesker uncertain of everything he had once firmly believed and knew to be true.

_Prone to production flaws, malfunctions and in need of constant upgrades. _The memory of (the deceased) William Birkin's clipped words replayed in his mind as his sub-conscious mocked him.

Beneath his clenched fingers the porcelain sink cracked, cutting the soft flesh of his hands. The wound went unnoticed, as crimson eyes glared through rather than at the reflection in the mirror.

Unconsciously, Albert recalled Claire Redfield's sleeping form, peacefully curled under thick comforters and cheap cotton sheets. If only he had not gone there, none of this would have happened. Why had he gone there in the first place? A chill ran down his spine at the thought, and he swiftly buried it.

The alarm on his wristwatch suddenly went off, forcing his thoughts back to the present. Time was not on his side. Instinctively reaching for the Magnum that rested on the counter, Albert caught sight of his ragged, aged expression from the corner of his eyes. Words once spoken by his arch nemesis, Chris whispered in his mind.

_You're just another of Umbrella's leftovers. _

The mirror shattered beneath his fists. Blood and glass intermingled, staining the pristine marble floor. Storming out in silence, Albert Wesker did not look back.

Failure was not an option.


	2. Secrets

**Author's Note:** This collection of vignettes are a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:** A huge thank you goes to AceofHadeon for taking the time to go over this for me and ensuring its all spiffy good! =D

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><p>The information was scarce, but it answered some of the questions that had plagued Albert Wesker since his dark revelation. He was not surprised to learn that his <em>creator<em> Oswell Spencer had lied to him. The old man, for all of his arrogance, knew enough to remain one step ahead. Even in death his tracks were thoroughly covered.

What little Wesker was able to discover came as no surprise to him. As suspected, Albert was not the only surviving child of the Wesker plan. Of the thirteen chosen, there remained two other survivors besides himself. Beyond their given names there was little information to be found about them. The one known as Alex was certain to be none other than the doppelganger who even now continued to parade as Albert Wesker. The identity of the other survivor remained a mystery. He had his suspicions, but the lack of evidence or information made it impossible to know for sure. Frowning, Albert read over the transferred files received that morning. There was no further information to be found amongst them, at least nothing that he did not already know.

It had been almost a week since Jill had been abducted, along with his latest prototype virus, a new variant of the Progenitor virus. About as long since he had been able to locate the man responsible for the theft. He had no doubt that his counterpart, Alex Wesker, was entirely responsible for the theft. If his contacts were correct, the man was headed for West Africa. Little else was known about his final destination, and this too did little to appease Wesker's frustration.

The screen before him suddenly flickered, catching his attention. Had it not been for his heightened senses, a side effect of the virus in his blood, Albert would have missed it entirely. Immediately he activated a new set of firewalls. What files that could have been stolen were re-encrypted and divided, ensuring the hacker responsible would have little if any chance at deciphering the details. Clearly, he was not the only one who sought answers, and Albert would be damned if they succeeded.

Without a second thought, he attempted to link the connection to the source, despite knowing that none would be found. No infiltrator worthy of the name would ever leave a trace of their presence. Despite the lack of evidence, Wesker was certain Alex was responsible for the attack. What little information the files contained held little monetary or political. To someone like Alex Wesker, however, its sentimental value was more than worth the trouble.

The remainder of the collected data slowly transferred onto a flash drive as Wesker rubbed his temples. The throbbing behind his eyes reminded him that it had been days since he had rested, much less fed. The Progenitor virus that coursed through his veins, though superior, could not entirely eliminate the necessities required for human survival. As loath as he was to admit it, Albert knew the matter would have to be attended to - and soon. Satisfied that he had secured his files, the former Umbrella agent wiped the memory bank of his computer clean before silently departing to catch his flight to Africa. With luck, it would not be too late.

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><p>Claire Redfield worked feverishly to tap into the very files Wesker sought to secure. The firewalls were nothing she had ever encountered before. The system's security was light years beyond what she was accustomed to deciphering. It took all of Claire's schooling, training, and personal experience to infiltrate the files she sought. Almost as soon as the information was accessed, the connection was cut and the firewalls were firmly reset. Hissing a curse, the former student almost tossed her laptop down in frustration. Spending endless hours at work, only to be thwarted by a superior security system, was not how she planned to end her day.<p>

However, to her surprise, a single file had been retrieved. With baited breath Claire scanned the file's data. Though the contents were damaged, Claire was confident that she could recover what little had been retrieved. Unfortunately, the information salvaged was heavily encrypted and would require more than a few hours of heavy deciphering.

Despite the setback, she remained confident that whatever was hidden would be worth the wait. The contents of the file did not disappoint. The data consisted of a single list of names, all bearing the same surname Wesker. Beneath the list read a report that simply stated: two active, one sleeper.

Recalling Albert's strange night visit of a week ago, Claire immediately saw the connection. Though she could not say what it meant, she was determined to find out.


	3. Uncertainty

**Author's Note:** This collection of vignettes are a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:**A huge thank you goes to AceofHadeon for taking the time to go over this for me and ensuring its all spiffy good! =D

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><p>The flight to West Africa was longer than Albert Wesker would have liked. The small but high-class jet was silent; not even the thrum of engines could be heard from within his private cabin. Only his thoughts provided him with any distraction. The laptop screen resting on the small table flickered as his fingers rapidly tapped through codes and security locks. They were the final links that kept him from observing Alex's recent work.<p>

Like much of the world, Alex believed Albert had died with destruction of the Spencer mansion. With Spencer's death, Albert knew that would soon change. The screen began to load as the codes broke through the security override. Closing his eyes, the former S.T.A.R.S. leader breathed a heavy sigh. Even the virus could not ignore his body's need for rest. Since Spencer's 'confrontation,' rest of any sort was few and far between. When he did find rest, his dreams were filled with strange nightmares and recollections of old memories long forgotten with the passage of time.

The hacking program had proved its worth, as the files he sought contained all the information that Albert needed. Blearily he skimmed through the scores of records, itineraries, and data, committing to memory what he could. A simple tap of keys and the files would soon belong to him. There was more than enough evidence to destroy both Tricell and Alex Wesker. Exposing his competition, though tempting, was not nearly as important as retrieving his stolen works. Unfortunately, the files contained little information that he did not already know.

Little was revealed pertaining to Alex's extensive research, but it was enough to alert Albert of the man's working location. Making note of the coordinates, Wesker sent a brief and encrypted message to his contact pertaining to last-minute arrangements. A few more hours remained before the plane would arrive to its destination.

Having given up any hope of finding rest, Albert drew up an old file that contained a collection of reports made throughout the course of his career. The past did not always have the answers, but it did provide important lessons for the future. With this in mind, the researcher began to type his thoughts for posterity. There was little else he could do in the time given him. In his exhaustion, he succumbed to sleep without ever having the chance to finish what he had started.

When he opened his eyes, Albert Wesker found himself in the marshlands of West Africa. He had no recollection of having arrived there, only that he had been there for some time. He did not know the hour, but the skies were coloured twilight, and the air was heavy with the threat of danger. Old, decrepit shacks were scattered throughout the marshes like dying sentinels guarding a forgotten tragedy.

In the distance the sound of footsteps could be heard, urging him to move to the shadows. He was curious about rather than afraid of his assailant. In silence he drew his Magnum, readying himself for the inevitable. The hunt had begun, and Wesker could no longer say if he was the hunter or the prey. Swiftly he climbed the rickety wooden stairs that led to a string of adjoining huts. The location, though hardly secure, provided him with a better view of his surroundings, all the while ensuring he left no further tracks.

There was no doubt in his mind who was tracking him through the marshlands or why he was doing it. Chris, for all of his courage, and physical training was hardly subtle. In Wesker's opinion, he was also by far the less intelligent of the two Redfields. Had it not been for the quick thinking of Chris's partner Jill, Albert surmised the young man would have gotten himself killed long ago. The fool clearly had a death wish, why else was he here? Did Chris really believe that he stood a chance against him? Far below, a twig snapped, answering Wesker's question.

Stepping into one of the dilapidated huts, he ensured his location remained hidden. As much as he wanted a fight, he had far more important places to be.

Scanning the room, Albert noted the extensive amount of decay. The thatch ceiling was mostly rotted away, exposing the star-filled night sky. There was no moon to be seen. The floor too was riddled with holes, revealing the twisted intermingled bodies of the dead far below. Their lifeless eyes seemed to glisten in the dark, watching him in silent accusation. They looked no different from the countless failed experiments that were disposed of in the basement labs of the Spencer mansion. The macabre sight invoked memories he had spent years trying to bury. He thought of Birkin's wasted obsession of upstaging Alexia, the powder keg that was the surrounding Arklay forest, and Spencer's mad scheme of _godhood. _Wesker sighed, suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever before.

It had all been nothing more than a farce.

'A living hell,' he murmured to himself, unable to look away. The sound of Chris's careful footsteps drew Albert's thoughts back to the present. His heightened senses warned him that the former S.T.A.R.S member was on the move a safe distance away. There was no need for a confrontation, not yet. Not when there was so much work to be done.

Behind him something rustled. Immediately Wesker aimed his weapon, all the while cursing himself for not anticipating Chris's sneak attack. Clearly the footsteps were nothing more than an infected shuffling about. How it was possible he could not say, for the footsteps were far too steady to be the one of the dead. His assessment was both accurate and incorrect.

'He wanted you to become a harbinger of chaos and death, so you became just that.'

Claire's voice broke the silence. Against the back wall of the hut she sat with an army-issue blanket wrapped around her small form. Shadows covered most of her body, while the starry sky cast an odd glow about her facial features. It was clear that she had been resting there for some time, which made little if any sense at all. In his sleep-deprived state, Wesker did not bother questioning it. Startled, he could only stare at her in silence, unable to look away or pull the trigger.

'Spencer no longer has control over you. You are a free man now.'

He wondered why Claire had not attacked when she had the opportunity. Given his exhaustion and distracted state of mind, it would have been easy for her to draw a blade across his throat, or pull the trigger of her Beretta. Yet Claire chose to refrain. The realization was unsettling.

Outside, Chris called her name, warning her to wake up. Knowing it was time to depart, Albert stepped back into the shadows, taking with him only the haunting memory of Claire's final question and warning.

'So why are you still trying to fulfill his dream?'

Albert awoke with no answer and the white glare of his laptop screen. Over the intercom the pilot politely informed the passengers that they would be landing soon. Forcing his thoughts clear of the strange dream, Wesker prepared himself for the inevitable. Alex would be found and his virus retrieved. Order would be restored one way or another.

'It is time for the unworthy to leave the stage,' he murmured, no longer certain of whom he spoke, Alex or himself.


	4. Checkmate

**Author's Note:** This collection of vignettes are a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:**A huge thank you goes to AceofHadeon for taking the time to go over this for me and ensuring its all spiffy good! =D

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><p>'We have been expecting you, Dr. Bailey,' the woman stated in pleasant tones upon Albert Wesker's arrival to the Tricell labs in Africa. 'Right this way.' Svelte and entirely self-assured, Tricell's foremost representative Excella Gionne guided him past the front desk and toward the elevators that would lead to the lower levels of the building.<p>

Albert Wesker's eyes burned and itched in protest to the blue coloured contacts that he currently wore. He was no actor by any means, but he was well informed. With careful planning, some prosthetics, cosmetics and a wig he was able to parade throughout the Tricell labs as the rather renowned and respected virologist Brandon Bailey. It had been some years since anyone had seen the recluse. Even so, he clearly still carried weight in his field of study.

'It is an honour to have someone as prestigious as you taking such an interest in our small facility,' she said politely. If she was aware of his disguise or his identity, she hid it well. He knew better than to let down his guard.

Albert, posing as Dr. Bailey, politely inquired about her research. Excella, for all of her arrogance, was eager to prove herself in the field of virology and genetic engineering. Proudly she spoke of her own research, up to and including the extensive study of both Las Plagas and his own former creations, the 'T' and 'G' virus strains. Even Wesker had to admit Ms. Gionne was a capable, if not brilliant, researcher in her own right. Her ambition could be either useful or detrimental in the future.

Guiding the conversation in the direction he desired, _Dr. Bailey _inquired about the infamous 'Albert Wesker' and his role in Tricell's up-and-coming projects. Excella spoke a little of what she knew of him; only her eyes revealed her suspicion. 'I heard that he has some interest in furthering my research,' he explained in apologetic tones. Excella's chiseled features grew thoughtful. He knew that she was aware that something was off; it would only be a matter of time before his cover was blown.

'It is not for me to say, but I will inform him of your interest,' she concluded. She did not touch on the subject further. It did not matter, as Albert had all he needed to complete the second part of his mission, or so he believed.

Stepping out into a vast room, Albert took in his surroundings. He had seen this location on more than one occasion through spy cameras and images stolen from Alex's files. Experiencing the vastness of the sterile room firsthand held a sense of nostalgia that took him back to the days when he still worked for Umbrella. All around him were rows upon rows of capsules, each one containing the physical shell of a test subject. In the centre of the vast chamber, just below the stairs, stood the large platform that acted as both a transport and elevator. Behind him, Excella explained the idea behind the capsule layout and the freighter elevator's unique purpose. Wesker did not bother to listen, his thoughts entirely elsewhere. If Alex had relocated the virus sample or Jill within the confines of Tricell, it would be located there.

'This way to the platform,' Excella purred as she guided him down the stairs. Stepping onto the platform alone, Albert was about to continue his façade, when the power suddenly went out. As expected, Excella Gionne was nowhere to be found. The trap had been set, and like the fool, he had walked right into it. Some part of him had known all along that it was just too easy.

The contacts he wore to complete the disguise diminished his sight, forcing his body to adjust to the darkness. His business attire, though roomy, was not designed to hide a sidearm or any other sort of weapon beyond a ceramic blade. It had been a small price to pay; a necessary evil that ensured his real identity remained hidden. It should not have mattered, for he was a man who was prepared for anything. Which begged the question: how could he have been so sloppy?

The barrel of the gun was warm in contrast to the cold skin of Albert's neck. He did not know how the man was able to sneak up on him; it was too late to dwell on it further. Through heightened senses, Albert could hear Alex removing the gun's safety. 'You're getting sloppy, Dr. Bailey, or should I say Albert Wesker.' The man's voice, so similar and yet different from his own, left little doubt in Albert's mind as to whom he was dealing with. He smirked at the man's words. Alex did not stand a chance against him; the fool just did not know it yet.

'Did you really believe that I wouldn't be aware of your presence?' Alex asked. 'Or that I would be so ignorant as to leave my files unprotected for just anyone to access?'

The man was correct and it infuriated the ex-Umbrella agent to have to admit it. Tapping into Alex's files had been entirely too easy. Albert then remembered the incident involving his own private files being tampered with. Why had he not seen the connection sooner? Albert Wesker did not know what infuriated him more, the fact that his life's work had fallen into the hands of an imbecile, or the fact that he had fallen for said imbecile's trap. In the end it was neither his disguise nor even his presentation that made him prey, it had been his exhaustion.

'Did you really think you would get away with stealing my work?' Albert replied in stoic tones. He did not fear death, as he had faced it before. The fact he had gotten so careless bothered him far more.

'But is it your work really? You have made quite a career out of stealing other people's creations, wouldn't you say? It's only fitting that another return the favour,' Alex taunted. The barrel of his gun pressed a little harder against the back of Wesker's neck. Wesker did not dignify the man's words with a response. He remained silent as he slowly raised his hands to the level of his eyes. His gaze continued to look forward to the cells that held the bodies of Tricell's latest test subjects. The sight continued to remind Albert of the old labs that used to reside beneath Spencer's mansion. He would be damned if he shared their gruesome fate.

'The truth hurts, doesn't it?' Alex said before prattling on about the future of humanity. Not concerned by the scientist's megalomaniac ideals, Albert took advantage of the moment. With inhuman speed, he hooked a foot behind Alex's leg and swung it up hard, causing the man to fall back. The gun in Alex's hand coughed, lodging a bullet into one of the capsules that held what had once been a human. Embryonic fluid poured out of the capsule's opening as Albert swiftly turned his attentions to his assailant.

Grabbing Alex by the throat, Albert slammed him hard against the central supports of the massive platform, causing the man to cry out in pain. For the briefest moment, Albert faltered, as he noted, with much disconcertment, that the man's face was a perfect mirror of his own reflection. His hesitancy cost him the upper hand, as Alex swiftly retaliated, punching a fist into Albert's ribs. Winded by the attack, Albert's grip around Alex's throat briefly loosened. It was enough for Alex to take a gasp of breath and regain his lost ground. He fired another shot, this time he did not miss his mark. Albert's eyes snapped wide as white-hot pain flooded the right side of his neck. Furious, he buried the pain as he tossed the man aside like a rag doll. Wesker's patience had long since reached its end.

'You try my patience, Doctor. Now, I will ask again, where is it?' It hurt to breathe, much less speak. Blood poured freely from his gaping neck wound. Alex simply laughed as Albert approached. In his hands the doppelganger held a small device that flashed red. Albert never had the chance to react before the flash bomb blinded his eyes. Albert's sight swiftly recovered, but by then Alex was long gone, taking with him all that Albert sought to retrieve.

Alarms rang loudly all around, him warning that an intruder had breached security. All personnel were to remain calm, as total lockdown would soon commence. Wounded, and out of his element in a guise that no longer was effective, Albert knew his odds were not good. He had experienced far worse situations and lived to tell about it. This time would be no different.

The massive elevator lurched to life, causing Albert to almost lose his footing. Rivers of blood continued to pour out of his wound, staining the suit he wore before splashing against the steel flooring beneath his feet. The great machine began its slow descent to the lower levels where well-trained security was certain to be waiting for him. Staggering to the elevator controls, he cursed Alex, and then cursed himself for not being more prepared. What had begun as a simple infiltration mission had quickly unraveled into something far more complicated. The trap was far simpler than anticipated, and ironically far more effective.

Albert's fingers, now covered in blood, moved across the controls as he attempted to hack into the elevator's security systems. Accessing the control system was no easy task, but Albert was confident in his skills. It was not the first time he had overridden a complex security program. Just as he was about to break through the electronic blocks, a loud crash resounded to his left. Immediately the platform stopped its descent as the comm. system continued its steady warning that security had been compromised. A short, furious growl near his side warned Albert that security was the least of his worries. The virus within his blood was working hard to mend his gaping throat wound, but the blood loss was extensive. The room swayed slightly as he tried to focus his eyes on the creature before him. Silently he cursed himself. Of all the times to be left without a firearm…

The beast, a T-virus sample that had undergone the transition known as V-ACT, growled as it rushed at him in a rage. Wesker withdrew the hidden ceramic blade from a side pocket in his dress pants just in time to lodge it in the Crimson Head's ribs. It did not slow the creature down. Withdrawing the blade from the zombie's chest, Albert struck the monster hard with his boot, causing the B.O.W. to fly back. It was a desperate attempt to buy himself some time and a little space.

The creature was swift to recover, forcing Wesker to go on the defense. The blade, bloodied and rank with the stench of rot, had little effect on the evolved zombie who swiped its claws at Albert. The agent instinctively dodged the attack but left his right flank open, enabling the creature to plunge its claws deep into his side. There was no fear to be felt, only disgust and rage. Blindly, he stabbed at the creature, puncturing its face and its throat while the beast continued its relentless attack.

The ground beneath his feet shifted without warning, causing both the Crimson Head and Albert to crash to the floor. The security override had been re-activated, permitting the elevator to continue its long descent. The wounded agent continued to struggle against the creature that sought to destroy him. White lights began to dance behind his eyes, making it ever more difficult to focus. Every pore in his body ached, while his stomach churned, threatening to betray him at the most inopportune moment. A part of Albert almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it all, to make it this far only to be taken down by a by-product of his career.

He would be damned if he fell prey to his own work.

Mustering the last of his strength, Albert threw the creature off him before staggering up to his feet. Everything spun violently, making it difficult to stand, much less move forward. The creature, though severely wounded, also rose to its feet. It was clearly unfazed by the gaping wounds that decorate its body or the limp appendage that hung loosely by its right side. Wesker did not wait a moment longer before rushing the crimson zombie. Throwing his entire weight against the beast's form, he sent it careening over the ledge of the platform into the endless distance far below.

Secure for the moment, Albert collected his bloodied knife before stumbling back to the platform's controls to reprogram its destination. It was not necessary; the system override had served its purpose. The elevator had reached the lowest level: Umbrella's old and now abandoned underground gardens. With few options left to him, Wesker made his retreat.

Despite the failure of his mission, Albert did not leave empty handed.


	5. Masks

**Author's Note:** This collection of vignettes are a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:** Care and courtesy of Maleficmistress. Be sure to pay her gallery both here and in dA a visit she's got some awesome artwork!

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><p>Albert Wesker could not fully recall how he found his way to a public airport, much less how he managed to escape Tricell's (and ultimately Alex) security. The suit he wore was neither a part of his original disguise, nor did it belong to him. What he did remember was that there had been breech in his mission objective that rendered him unable to escape via his private jet. Alex was certain to be waiting for him at the rendez-vous point. The jet would then be confiscated (along with its pilot) and then destroyed once Alex or Tricell had collected what they sought. Fortunately, Albert was a man who travelled light, there would be no evidence that could be used against him in the future.<p>

There still was the question of how he arrived here so many miles away from his original destination. The black screen of his laptop provided no answers, it simply stared back at him in anticipation. How he managed to salvage his laptop was but one more mystery that had yet to be answered. Albert could only hope that once his body had cleared itself of the T-virus his memory would return. His head swam and throbbed, while his churning stomach rudely reminded him that his body was not quite finished removing the infection. The progenitor virus had healed the worst of his wounds, but his body still ached in protest. The initial fever he had suffered had since passed, though his stomach continued to betray him in its desperate attempt to rid itself of the V-ACT's parting gift. Closing his eyes he struggled to clear his garbled thoughts, all the while resisting the urge to scratch out his eyes. As much as he wanted to tear off the contacts he still wore the ex-Umbrella agent refrained. His eyes were the least of his worries.

Staring at the inactivated laptop he tried again to recall the events that had transpired. In the back of his mind he recalled his journey Tricell's central labs. The mission though a failure, had not been an entire loss. His guide, Excella Gionne, for all of her brilliance had been too focussed on her work to take full note of either her surroundings or her guest. Albert knew the spy bugs he planted would be found sooner or later, until then, he would gleam whatever valuable information he could. The Files he had copied and transferred to his flash drive also held the promise of important intel. Clearly Tricell had yet to learn from Umbrella's grave mistakes. Albert frowned to himself as it occurred to him that this too could have been a part of the trap. He would learn soon enough.

His surroundings blurred before his eyes as the pounding in his head seemed to crescendo. Passing a hand over his eyes Wesker drew in a deep breath in an attempt to clear his mind. Everything and everyone around him seemed to move too fast, as though he were caught in slow motion while the world spun forward. He could feel the inky blackness threatening to rob him of consciousness. It was neither the time, nor place to succumb to such weakness. Determined, he fought back the urge despite the ever growing weight behind his eyes.

'They say lack of sleep can be detrimental to one's health. Not that you would know anything about that of course. By the way, nice work on your mission-

'That is none of your concern,' he hissed through clenched teeth upon hearing William's voice. From the corner of his eyes Albert could almost see deceased scientist's amused smirk as he spoke.

'As always so ignorant and arrogant, just like your creator.'

'That is irrelevant,' Wesker snapped in frustration.

'Fine then, what is relevant?' Albert's eyes snapped open upon hearing Claire's voice nearby. Instinctively he stiffened, expecting to feel the warmth of a gun barrel against the back of his head. Around him passengers continued on with their business blissfully unaware of his eyes darting across the cabin seeking the threat that may or may not have been real. Everything around him began to violently sway and spin, leaving his body entirely disconnected from his head or so it felt.

Nearby, Claire's voice continued her one sided conversation with some unknown person on her laptop. Her words grew increasingly garbled and disconnected to his clouded senses. The spinning grew increasingly violent causing his stomach to lurch in protest, it was a warning he could no longer ignore. Staggering to his feet, Albert paid no heed to the expensive laptop that tumbled to the carpeted floor. He made it to the restroom just in time to maintain his dignity, just not enough time to avoid drawing unwanted attention to himself.

Shaky hands gripped the sink tightly as the ex-Umbrella agent tried to steady his breathing. With great effort he turned the sink tap on in a futile attempt to hide the bloodied evidence. A distant part of him warned him of the impending biohazard, but he did not care. Splashing water on his face Albert caught sight of his reflection from the corner of his eyes. His guise was oddly intact, right down to the wig he wore. Only the flush of his skin revealed his current state, along with the dishevelment of his clothes.

The fog that clouded his thoughts briefly cleared enabling him to assess the situation. Wesker did not know how long the flight was going to be but the ticket in his pocket revealed his final destination. It was not near where he needed to be but it was close enough that he could find his way back without too much trouble. Only when he was certain the evidence was momentarily hidden did he retire back to his seat. There he discovered (much to his chagrin) that his imagination had not played him for a fool.

Bent over in the middle of the aisle Claire Redfield carefully collected his open laptop and rumpled coat. Glancing up at him the younger Redfield sheepishly smiled. At any other time Wesker would have killed her on the spot. Albert refrained, out of knowledge of their public location and the fact he was in no condition to fight. Claire mistook his hesitancy for confusion at her presence.

'Thought you could use a hand. You left in such a hurry that you dropped your laptop and coat on the floor,' she explained before adding as she rose to her feet. 'Are you going to be alright?' No response came to him, even after she had returned his belongings. 'Do you want me to get the attendant?' she tried again.

'I am fine,' he stated with a stern look. Clearly unconvinced, Claire looked as though she were about to press the matter further but held her tongue instead. About to turn away she paused in mid-step and glanced back at him in curiosity. A warning echoed in the back of his thoughts but it was promptly buried. She was a Redfield after all and therefore could not possibly be that observant.

'Have we met before? You look really familiar,' she asked. Albert stood corrected.

'No,' he curtly replied. With an apology the young woman returned to her seat as the voice of his departed colleague William Birkin whispered in his thoughts.

'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'

Suddenly it all made sense. Activating the laptop Albert Wesker smiled to himself. Despite the initial setbacks, his mission was proving to be a success after all.


	6. Replacement

**Author's Note:**This collection of vignettes are a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:** Care and courtesy of Maleficmistress Be sure to pay her gallery a visit she's got some awesome artwork!

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><p>Albert Wesker was not surprised by the scathing article pertaining to the murder of Tricell's most renowned medical researchers. A few days earlier, the scientist had been a perfect fit for Wesker who broke his neck before swapping his garbs during his escape from their labs in Africa. The company claimed to be mourning the loss and were currently working with authorities to locate the man responsible. Their demand for justice would be met they claimed, while urging the public to come forth if they knew of any information that would lead the arrest of the killer responsible. The security personal that lost their lives during his desperate escape were never mentioned.<p>

'You'll have to try harder than that Alex, if you wish to continue this little game,' Albert murmured to himself as he continued to read the scathing news.

With his health restored and the last of the lingering T-virus having been flushed out of his system, Albert Wesker was ready to resume his mission. The data he had stolen held little substantial value but it provided enough information that could prove useful in the future. The majority of his bugs had since been removed, save for one. Though disappointed by the results, his plan had yet to be truly frustrated. He still had one more resource readily available: the B.S.A.A and Terra-Save. With careful planning and timing, Albert was confident that he could manipulate them into doing what needed to be done.

He had no difficulty infiltrating both the B.S.A.A and Terra-Save's highly encrypted security systems. The two organizations though fundamentally different, operated with similar goals. Their need to save humanity from itself ensured their paths remained forever intertwine. It came as no surprise that many of their contacts worked within both organizations. Upon locating the names and aliases of their contacts, the information was promptly downloaded. Their whereabouts though difficult to procure was eventually accessed as well. Of the list, only one seemed suited for his purposes: Bruce McGivern.

Leaning back in his chair he patiently waited for his program to upload what information it could find on the illusive infiltration agent. The infiltration agent was a highly skilled and a seasoned fighter. Having served the B.S.A.A. since its humble beginnings the agent was both respected and well trusted within the organization. Of all the agents, the man was most unknown, and ironically one of their most reliable contacts. He also had been reported missing in action for some weeks. Albert could not care what became of the man, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one.

All that remained was locating him and ensuring he would not become a future liability.

It took two weeks for Albert to locate the agent in the eastern regions of Europe. As expected, the man was no threat to him. He was told the abandoned prison had not been used in some time, upon witnessing it first hand Albert had little doubt of it. Ancient and in an advanced state of decay the old dungeon was the perfect place to conduct his little _meeting. _

Taking a seat before a heavy and dried out wooden table, the former umbrella agent silently activated an audio transmission on his computer. Behind him lying in the dirt was the infected and rotted body that had once been the real Bruce McGivern. The zombie shuddered and twitched as smoke rose from the small hole between its eyes. Albert could not say how long the man had been holed up and forgotten in the now abandoned prison, nor did he care. What did matter was that the agent was no longer a potential threat to his schemes.

As much as he did not want to share, his Intel with his enemies Albert knew it was the only way to ensure the mission was pursued as he saw fit. By providing them with just enough information he was confident he would earn their trust and loyalty. It would only be a matter of time before the B.S.A.A. and Terra-Save would be under his thumb. With the world's greatest anti-bioterrorism organization backing him, Alex would have nowhere left to hide.

The green lines danced across the holographic screen alerted him to the arrival of his contact. Activating his side of the connection Wesker waited for them to break the silence. A moment later Claire Redfield's voice, though distorted and altered (for security reasons), demanded his call sign. He did not need to hear her call sign to know it was Claire. Even with the distortion, Albert recognized the subtle nuances of her voice, for he had heard it often, both in his nightmares and in waking thoughts. Frowning to himself, he noted that Claire had not been one of McGivern's regular contacts. Either this was a trap or he had accessed the wrong files. Neither possibility amused him. Setting his desert eagle on the table he took a moment to fine-tune the frequency to ensure that their privacy had not been compromised. If this was indeed a trap he would be ready, and they would pay.

_Report. _

Claire's distorted statement was more of a bark, than an order. Albert Wesker was not a man who took orders from others; still he tolerated it, both out of necessity and sheer amusement. Some times, it is necessary to play the role of the prey, in order to fulfil the role of predator, the ex-Umbrella agent thought to himself. It was but one of many of the late William Birkin's quotes. With a smirk on his lips, Wesker spoke McGivern's call sign and waited for the game to begin. 

* * *

><p>Claire Redfield was not a patient woman when it came to waiting for the arrival of her contact. Though it only had been minutes it felt like hours before his presence became known to her through the encrypted audio channel. While visuals were preferred, the agent claimed his current location made it inaccessible. Suspicious, her superiors and the B.S.A.A decided against direct interaction; they did not want to risk any possible compromise.<p>

Claire knew little of this _new_ contact save that his last mission had been to stop an extremist group from using bio weapons to stage a coup. Her superiors did not know what had become of him, only that the rebels were violently put down by another ruling faction. The bio-weapons and the virus was destroyed (so the records stated), though all evidence suggested the man had died during the completion his mission.

Staring at the audio window on her laptop Claire wondered what agent McGivern had discovered that was so vitally urgent, or why he had chosen now to make contact as opposed to months ago. The audio screen crackled with life, ending the thought and warning her that someone was on the other line. 'This is Red Valkyrie. Requesting identification,' Claire said.

There was more static from the other end, then silence. Instinctively, her fingers tightened around her weapon as she demanded they report. Claire knew better than to let her guard down. After a moment's pause, the audio channel picked up a distorted voice.

'This is Black Xebec.'

It would seem Bruce McGivern was alive after all.


	7. One Slip

**Author's Note:** This collection of vignettes are a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta: **Care and courtesy of Maleficmistress Be sure to pay her gallery a visit she's got some awesome artwork! Also to AceofHadeon for again noting my ignorance of firearms and correcting me on it.

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><p><em>Report. <em>

Claire's voice distorted and distant crackled over the audio connection.

'I believe you have something for me,' Albert Wesker said as he leaned back into his seat. The audio crackled as a distorted sound that could have been a laugh or a snort was heard. He could envision Claire smirking from behind her computer. The foolish girl still believed she had control of the situation.

_I'm sorry but it doesn't work quite like that. Your turn first. _

It had been three weeks since Albert had begun the ruse, to his great amusement no one had caught on to it. As always, it was Claire who began their little dance, and Albert who concluded it. Their exchange of words though brief, was always productive.

'I think not. I have provided you with enough information to begin your search. Now it is time to help me with mine,' he replied. The audio fell silent, but Albert knew that Claire had not left. The B.S.A.A and Terra-Save would not pull out, not when they required his assistance now more than ever.

_Puppet master has been confirmed. House of cards has not yet revealed its sigils. _

Albert frowned at her reply. Of all the information, he had provided them with, all they could find was evidence to his facts. He already knew Alex was posing as him. He already knew that Tricell was mindful to cover their tracks. He needed more information pertaining to Alex's recent work, and Tricell's role in it.

'I trust you found a little more than that,' he said. Another pause answered his query. _She knows, she is just stringing you along just as Gionne did, _ his thoughts whispered. Wesker's fingers instinctively tightened around the grip of his desert eagle.

_Such sensitive information is best shared in person, _ Claire replied.

Albert knew this day was certain to come, he had not expected it would arrive so soon. 'Leave it at the usual drop off point,' he answered, annoyed at the suggestion. Always prepared, he did not intend to reveal his identity or location, certainly not on their terms. Her silence did not bother him, Albert knew Claire would comply, out of duty or was it loyalty to her masters.

_Very well. I will leave it in the usual location at the usual time. Your turn. _

_So predictable, _ Albert thought with a smirk. Providing Claire with Intel had not been difficult.  
>Ensuring her superiors got it right and performed to his expectations was proving to be more complicated than he imagined. How the anti-terrorism organizations loved their paperwork and red tape!<p>

'There is a new addition to our little game, an enigma of sorts. My sources know little save that, their uniform has earned them the name of _plague doctor. _ I know little else, only that they are tied in some way to the puppet master and his associates.'

The 'plague doctor' was an unexpected player, one whose role Albert had yet to decipher. As much as he desired answers he knew better than to make another direct infiltration attempt on Tricell; they would be expecting him. It was wiser to let his new lap dogs do the dirty work.

'I will inform you if I learn anything else.'

_Confirmed. _

Their meeting concluded shortly after. Albert Wesker did not learn of his mistake until it was too late.

* * *

><p><em> 'I do not know who it is you have been in contact with Ms. Redfield, but it is not Bruce Givern. I believe he was exposed to the T-virus while on mission to stop a black-market exchange of bio-weapons a few months ago. I was to be his contact at the drop zone, when he didn't arrive I knew something was wrong-I had to find him.<em>

_'With civil unrest in the region and the eventual political coup I was unable to reach him in time. When I arrived-it was too late. Bruce's mission was completed, but it came at a high price.'_

Claire sat in silence as she replayed the recorded message of her exchange with agent Ling. She knew little of the Asian woman, save a colleagues warning that she was not to be regarded a reliable source. Nevertheless, the sincerity of Ling's words along with the subtle cracks in her otherwise flawless mask was difficult to ignore. Even if her story was entirely fabricated one solid kernel of truth remained, something had happened to agent Givern.

Claire's audio meeting with the impostor that evening confirmed it. There was no way Bruce Givern real or otherwise would have known the drop off location for their Intel because she had not spoken of it to him, or anyone else for her direct supervisor. The B.S.A.A and Terra-Save's security systems had been compromised, the realization made her blood run cold.

Claire's thoughts ran wild as her fingers flew over the keys of her. At a first glance, there was no evidence of infiltration. The impostor knew how to cover their tracks, but Claire was a skilled programmer and knew all the tricks, no matter how subtle the attack there would always be a trail. Despite the late hour, she was quick to send a message alerting her superiors of the possible infiltration. She had a sinking feeling the impostor had accessed the main systems of both the B.S.A.A. and Terra-Save.

It was early in the morning when her fears were finally confirmed. The trail was finally found, subtle and carefully hidden beneath codes used to operate the audio channel that had been accessed for their interactions. 'Gotcha,' Claire murmured to herself. It took little time to locate the source of the attack, and even less for her to realize that she had infiltrated it before.

'Dammit, should have known,' she murmured with a heavy sigh. Too exhausted to feel fear or much else, Claire deactivated her laptop, collected her beretta and departed for home. Tomorrow was certain to be a long day. She could only that Wesker wherever he was would remain blissfully unaware of his mistake until the trap was sprung.


	8. Reunion

**Author's Note:**This collection of vignettes are a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:**Care and courtesy of Maleficmistress Be sure to pay her gallery a visit she's got some awesome artwork!

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><p>Albert learned of his mistake almost as soon as he had disconnected his audio. There was no excuse this time for the slip up. The realization was more than a little troubling.<p>

_You're getting sloppy boy, perhaps its time to give up the game. _He could almost hear Spencer's mocking tones, and see his arrogant smirk. Tapping into Claire Redfield's security channels, he created access blocks to ensure no messages could be sent or received from her computer. Not wishing to take a chance, he proceeded to do the same to both Terra-Save and the B.S.A.A. He knew it was a short-lived solution, it was also the only viable one left to him.

Technology was a unique sort of power, the sort never witnessed before in the course of history. With a careful tap of fingers entire countries were destroyed, and great corporate empires fell. Albert did not intend to destroy his puppets but he had no desire to reveal his identity to them either. Claire would have to be silenced, and he would have what he sought.

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><p>The drop off point was just as Albert had predicted; quiet, public, and entirely unobtrusive. He stood in the shadows, watching as people and night creatures alike passed by unaware of his presence. It had been four weeks since Africa, almost five since he had learned the truth. Claire Redfield was due to arrive at any moment, and he was ready for her. The desert eagle in his hand was steady, only his thoughts wavered.<p>

_What do you want? Why are you doing this? _Claire's phantom voice whispered in his thoughts. Why was he here? What did he hope to accomplish? Albert Wesker was not a man who had doubts. Yet since learning his identity, he had been plagued with them.

_This is not normal. Something is wrong, _his thoughts whispered. The sudden warmth of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his head immediately cleared his mind.

'Wesker, I should have known,' Claire spat. Albert was swift to respond, but Claire was quicker. Her beretta coughed and the all too familiar white-hot coursed through his chest. _History repeats itself, _Spencer's voice seemed to whisper in his ear as Albert coughed blood.

Furious, the ex-Umbrella agent grabbed Claire by the throat, slamming her hard against the lamppost that decorated the bridge's center. 'Now that was not necessary,' he growled as his grip tightened.

'What did you do to agent Givern?' she said between struggled breaths. Albert ignored her question until he saw the look in her eyes. The young woman knew something and he knew it was of great importance.

'The agent was already dead when I found him; a failed carrier of the T-virus,' Wesker retorted. He dropped her unceremoniously onto the bridge. His head grew light, as profuse amounts of blood spilled from his chest. It would have been a fatal wound had Albert been a mere mortal. Already, he could feel the virus within him repairing the damage done.

'What is you game Wesker? Claire demanded. The biker was quick on her feet. Her gun once more aimed at his face. With unnatural speed, Albert collected her beretta before she had a chance to respond. Claire's eyes flashed with rage, then immediately calmed. Her expression remained stoic, a perfect mask of indifference. The impulsive foolish woman he had encountered in Antarctica was no more.

'Now what do you have for me?' he said.

'Answer my question and I will answer yours,' she replied. Albert had little use for her cocky attitude; he refrained from silencing her, convinced that he needed the information she carried.

'Something important of mine was stolen by a man who claims to be me,' he said, inwardly surprised by his own honesty. The truth was not something Wesker readily shared, certainly not with an enemy.

'He's a Wesker child isn't he?' Her voice was quiet, almost gentle.

Albert stared at her in startled disbelief. How much did she know about the Wesker project? More importantly, who else knew? The throbbing pain of his wound was distracting; it slowed his senses leaving him struggling to keep his thoughts focussed. History really was repeating itself.

'I was not aware the B.S.A.A was so eager to reveal classified information to civilians,' he said.

'No they didn't, you did,' she said. Suddenly, everything made sense; it was not Alex at all, it was Claire all along.

'You accessed my personal files!'

Claire did not stand a chance in the face of his rage. Wesker's fury and vicious attacks left Claire unable to defend herself. He made short work of the biker throwing her with such force that her body crumpled at the bridges edge like a rag doll. Though bloodied and wounded, Claire staggered to her feet her boot knife ready in her hand. Albert swiftly closed the distance between them. His intent was clear, yet he did not attack. 'I demand answers!' he growled. Claire remained poised her weapon at the ready. There was the same knowing look in her blue eyes he had seen a moment before.

'I was awake the night you broke into my home. I had no weapon within reach and no means of a quick escape, so I faked being asleep.

'I heard every word.'

The blood loss, and the incessant pain from his wound did little to aid Albert in processing her terrible confession. In horrified disbelief, he watched as Claire cautiously sheathed her blade, before removing something small from her pocket.

Extending her hand towards him, Albert noticed a tiny chip resting in the middle of her palm. Carefully, his gloved fingers slipped over her calloused hands, as he claimed the chip for his own. 'It is not what you've requested, but I think you'll find more use for this than I,' she quietly said.

_Curiosity always was your mistress of choice,_William's voice whispered in his thoughts. 'Indeed. What about the Intel I was promised,' Albert said. He forced himself to ignore the ground swaying beneath his feet, as he studied the tiny chip between his gloved fingers. Claire hesitated as if considering his words before offering him another small chip. She left without another word spoken, her petite form fading away into the night.

It was several hours later when Albert Wesker learned that he had received his very first gift. It would be another three years before he understood why.


	9. Memories

**Author's Note:**This tale is a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot 'A Question of Destiny.' As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:**Care and courtesy of Maleficmistress Be sure to pay her gallery on dA a visit she's got some awesome artwork!

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><p>The room was bright, so bright that Albert could not see anything beyond the searing white light that threatened to burn his eyes into their sockets. Squeezing his lids shut the seven year old boy struggled not to panic. Brave boys never showed fear. He opened his mouth to call out to his parents, but only silence escaped his lips. Fighting back tears, young Albert reminded himself that only babies wept. That was why his parents had left him; because he was weak, and sickly; because he was not strong enough.<p>

Albert knew better now, but calling for the dead would not bring them back to life.

'Subject thirteen's body has responded well to the new organs; there have been no signs of rejection. Injection of tissue samples have also proven successful. Subject suffers an acute sensitivity to light. A minor side effect that confirms postulated theories of subject thirteen having contracted an extreme form of photokeratitis.'

With eyes squeezed shut, Albert listened as a man spoke into a recorder; his voice clipped and detached. He understood exactly what the doctors were referring to, though he was really too young to understand what photokeratitis was, or what it meant. His body hurt and his head felt heavy. His eyes continued to throb as the light, once a violent white, now a dull red shade, shone from beyond his closed eye lids.

The man continued, unaware and uncaring of Albert's exhausted state. A cold gloved hand grasped his jaw, holding the boy still. With his eyes still shut, Albert felt two more fingers pressing against his throat; seeking signs of swelling lymph nodes. The doctor continued his prognosis. 'Proper eye protection will have to be worn at all times to ensure no further damage. I will have the engineering department create proper glasses suited for subject thirteen's condition. Something suited for blocking UV rays, while transmitting a minimal amount of light.'

'Beyond this minor complication, the operation has proven a resounding success.' He could hear the sound of a recorder being shut off and knew the man was finished his assessment. A moment later, the bright light was turned off providing Albert's throbbing orbs, a brief reprise from the pain. Cautiously opening his eyes the young boy found himself alone, strapped to an operation table in a room not so different from the sterile labs he had spent years working in.

Only that was not possible.

'You remember, don't you?'

Claire's voice spoke out from the dark. Frantically, he searched the dark room for her presence; Claire was nowhere to be found. No longer confined to the body of a child, a grown Albert promptly realized he was trapped on the wrong side of a lab chamber.

'Release me!' he ordered. Struggling against the tight metal straps that held him in place Wesker tore his flesh causing blood to stain the sterile steel table.

'Only you can do that Albert. I've already given you the key, the rest is up to you now,' Claire whispered from the shadows.

'I am tired of your riddles. I demand that you release me!' Albert growled, continuing his struggle against the restraints.

'Do it yourself.'

At the sound of Alex's voice the room was flooded with a bright light, causing Albert to scream in pain as his eyes burned with the powerful glow of high intensity discharge lamps.

Albert Wesker awoke to the sound of his heart threatening to burst out of his chest and the dim moon light shining through the windows of his spartan office. Instinctively, his eyes flickered to his watch; he had been asleep for about two hours. It was the most rest he had since receiving Claire's _gift, _over a week ago. The strange nightmare replayed in his mind, leaving Albert confused and feeling out of sorts. It was the exact feeling he had upon uploading the contents of the chip that Claire had given him.

The girl had done her homework. The tiny data chip contained everything from Oswell's personal files, to lab reports on the physical and psychological development of the Wesker children. Claire had even learned that the third Wesker child, a sleeper agent, was none other than the illusive Ada Wong; previously known as Laura, or subject number seven. Albert smiled to himself at the thought. He wondered what the self-righteous agent would say had she known that she was nothing more than a manufactured bio-weapon. Wesker had no intention of sharing that little piece of information until the time was right.

Yet of all the information Claire had given him only one stood out in Albert's mind; a detail that he wold not soon forget. The doppelganger who claimed to be _Albert Wesker_was more than just another Wesker subject, he was Albert's identical twin brother; his elder by exactly three minutes.

How Claire Redfield had managed to procure such sensitive information still eluded Albert. Even more curious was the fact that she had gone to such risk to learn his secrets only to give them away and to her enemy no less. There was no doubt in Albert's mind what would happen should her superiors learn of her actions.

So many answers were revealed, yet even more questions remained.

Staring at the black screen of his dormant laptop he breathed a heavy sigh. No matter how he tried to decipher Claire Redfield's hidden agenda Albert found no viable answer. None of it made any sense. The former agent could not say what infuriated him more; her illusive intentions, or the fact she had the upper hand on him all along.

_'Perhaps she just likes sanctimonious prigs.' _

The memory of William's voice taunted his thoughts. Albert scowled as he envisioned his former compatriot, and grudging best friend seated just out of view, mocking him as he so often did.

'Interesting that you should mention it, I hear Annette has a liking for sanctimonious prigs too. Probably why she married you,' Albert muttered in annoyance. The phantom of William chose not to dignify his insult with a reply.

The buzzing sound of his cell phone drew him back from his thoughts. Immediately he activated his phone. 'Have you procured the sample?' he asked the former test subject number seven; better known as Ada Wong.

'We have a problem,' she replied in terse tones. 'The cult followers of Los Illuminados have kidnapped the American president's daughter.' Biting back a curse, Wesker informed the agent that he would into the matter personally if necessary. Until then, Ada was to continue her mission as planned. Shutting off his phone he closed his eyes and forced his thoughts to clear.

_ Nothing can ever be simple can it? Leave it up to a group of insane cultists to botch up an otherwise straight forward mission, _William's phantom voice mocked.

Albert ignored his thoughts as his laptop suddenly activated itself with a barely audible hum. Someone was trying to contact him through the outdated audio channel. He already knew who it was before ever hearing the altered voice: Claire Redfield.

* * *

><p>Claire's hands shook as she punched in the code required to activate the old audio channel that would link her to the man she once knew to be her sole enemy. Her thoughts reeled with the knowledge of what she had learned only a short time ago.<p>

The news of the abduction of the president's daughter still lingered fresh in her mind. Her first thoughts had initially been of Wesker, and his role in the kidnapping. As difficult as it was to admit Claire was certain he was not a part of this particular attack. He was more inclined to games of cloak and dagger, versus a direct assault. Which meant there was another player in this complicated game of bioterrorism; a thought she did not relish.

It was not the only matter that weighed heavy on her conscience.

The disturbing message she had received from a source in West Africa earlier that day had also left little room for ignorance. Should her contacts sources prove valid, it would mean everything that Wesker had told her was truth. It also meant that the B.S.A.A. had become the unwitting pawns of an organization far more powerful than Umbrella Corp. Without solid evidence or proof to back their claims Claire knew her warnings would fall on deaf ears. Wesker knew more than he was letting on, and she would be damned if more innocents paid the price for his secrets.


	10. Rumours

**Beta Readers:** As always a huge thank you to the lovely **Weshallflyaway** for helping me make this work! Your help and wisdom is always greatly appreciated.

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><p>The park appeared empty, as it always did when the hour was late, yet Albert Wesker knew that he was far from alone. The virus that coursed through his veins heightened his senses enabling him to catch Claire's subtle scent long before she revealed herself. Stepping onto the old bridge that over looked the little creek dividing the park's interior into two, he paused to take in his surroundings. It was a perfect evening for the hunt, he noted. The night skies were clouded and void of stars, even the moon remained hidden, its shadow felt, but not seen. Briefly, he wondered what sort of trouble would stir on a night like tonight.<p>

'You have come for answers,' Albert said, not bothering to acknowledge the petite woman's hiding place with a glance. There was prudence in permitting Claire Redfield the illusion that he was unaware of her exact hiding place. The more his opponents underestimated him, the better.

A moment later, Claire Redfield emerged from the shadows behind him. He could hear her soft footsteps, and could almost envision her cautious approach. She always did carry herself with the poise of a high strung fighter ready to strike.

'What did you do, Wesker?' she snapped upon joining his side. Albert resisted the urge to smirk at her childish outburst. Claire Redfield may no longer have been predictable, but she was still a Redfield, prone to flights of emotional meltdowns and frenzies of self-righteousness.

'Do you truly believe that I am responsible for every attack, and every outbreak?' he asked, not bothering to hide the tinge of annoyance in his voice. Had the situation not been as it were, Albert would have found Claire's ignorance entirely entertaining. However, he had no time for such petty amusements, and even less for finger pointing.

'Then prove me wrong,' she challenged.

'I already have,' he said, with a hint of a smirk. 'If Los Illuminatos were my creation you would be the last to know.'

_Redfields; always so eager with the theatrical heroics, and quick to jump to pointless conclusions._

Albert could hear William's mocking in the back of his mind and could almost see the dead doctor's amused smirk. He often wondered how the two siblings had survived for as long as they had. Idiocy and stubbornness, were sure ways to get oneself killed. Claire fell silent as she folded her arms before leaning against the railing of the old wooden bridge. Staring ahead at the dark waters of the small creek she seemed to consider his words.

'You don't expect me to believe you're not entirely involved in this somehow?' she asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. Albert could hear the doubt in her voice. Clearly, it ruffled her sense of morality to think that her arch nemesis could actually be telling the truth. Had he chosen to lie, Albert was fairly certain that she would have readily accepted him at his word. It was easier for her to believe that he was responsible for everything that went wrong with the world, than consider the possibility that he was not behind it all. The discovery proved oddly more annoying, than entertaining.

'My involvement is minute. I have no interest in their organization. My interest remains only in the parasite they carry,' he said in terse tones.

'No surprise there,' Claire coolly replied.

'No,' he agreed.

Claire breathed a heavy sigh, as she absently picked at the peeling rust red paint of the old railing. 'You do realize someone is going to intercede. Whether it's the US government, or the B.S.A.A, someone will stop you,' she warned.

Albert was not troubled. Outside interference was the least of his concerns. 'I believe Alex is directly responsible for Los Illuminados' use of the parasite. Along with their decision to _involve_ the American government. If your contacts can stop him, then so be it. Their intervention will only serve to further assist me,' he said in plaintive tones.

'And what is the Illuminados' role in your games?' she asked. Her pathetic attempt to pass off as uninterested was noted, but not acknowledged. From the corner of his eye he could see her watching him intently. He did not bother rewarding her with his full attention. He would not play her games either.

_ 'Tell her all your plans why don't you? Because that's not what villains always do in those B rated movies, just before the hero offs them and save the day,'_ William's memory mocked. Albert clenched his fists, causing the leather gloves he wore to loudly creak. He had no time for such insults.

'If you are unable to deduce that with what you know, then you are even more ignorant than your brother,' he retorted.

'Whether you like it or not Wesker, I am as much in this mess as you are,' Claire replied. Her naivety was truly was baffling.

'You said you had something for me,' Albert said, ignoring the young woman's words.

Claire removed a flash drive from a small hidden pocket on the sleeve of her leather biker jacket. 'I think you may find this useful,' she said. Curious, though he might have been, Albert refused to reveal his concerns over the tiny flash drive. Meeting her gaze, the ex-umbrella agent waited for her explanation.

'I think I've found a connection that could reveal the location of Alex's private labs,' she began. 'There is a contact in Africa who has been monitoring Tricell's business interactions ever since you provided me with that Intel a while back. Apparently, Tricell's CEO, , has been spending a lot of time with a certain CEO of Wilpharma.'

This was hardly news to him. Albert had long since been aware of Tricell's intention to buy out Wilpharma. It was hardly a sound course of action; Wilpharma was not an advanced organization. They had little to offer, by way of technology, or viral advancements, that Tricell did not already have. So what interest would Alex have in it? Ms. Gionne for all of her talent and money, was little more than Alex Wesker's unwitting puppet. Clearly, Wilpharma had something important, something big enough to catch Alex's attention. There could be no other reason why he would even bother convincing Tricell to pour millions of dollars into an investment that was certain to cost them capital.

With the recent outbreak at the Harvardville airport having been supposedly linked back to them, and the ever growing evidence of their research into the G virus, WilPharma stocks soon took heavy losses. It was not long before no one wanted anything to do with the pharmaceutical company, or their business associates. It came as no surprise that WilPharma was now looking to sell under threat of bankruptcy.

'Indeed. What else,' he said with a hint of a frown. Patiently he waited for more information to be given. Claire, however, was not about to give in without a fight.

'Tell me your intentions with Los Illuminados first, then I'll tell you when and where he will be meeting Ms. Gionne next,' she teased, holding the tiny flash drive just out of his reach.

'I do not have time for games,' he warned. It would have been all too easy to wrap his gloved fingers around her throat and break her neck. A flick of the wrist and the little flash drive would belong to him. Yet he refrained, out of practicality and the need for control. Claire still served a purpose, and even he knew that power was never rewarded to the indulgent.

'Your intentions,' she repeated, in equally calm tones.

'You do realize, I could just as easily kill you and take the information,' he noted, closing the distance between them. Taking a step back, Claire continued to hold his hidden gaze.

'You could, but you won't. If that had been your intent all along, you would have done it already. You've certainly had more than enough opportunity,' Claire pointed out.

_Beaten at your own game._ William's voice whispered in his thoughts. Albert could almost envision Birkin's proud smirk; further fouling his mood.

'I intend on collecting a sample of the Las Plagas virus. It will be analysed and altered to trap Alex at his own game,' he confessed in reluctant tones. There was always a great risk involved when speaking of one's plans. It did not matter how vague or illusive the information may be, almost always, someone unwanted was certain to find out. Albert refused to consider the reasoning behind his words. It was just easier to ignore the troubling thought and move on to the task at hand.

'Now for the information you claim to have,' he demanded.

With a hint of a proud smirk, Claire Redfield gave him the tiny flash drive. Collecting it from her bare fingers, Albert slipped the little device into one of the many hidden pockets of his leather trench coat. Only when she had his full attention did she speak of what her contact had discovered, and her plans for their next course of action. Her suggestion that they join forces and go to Africa together left him immediately regretful of his decision to hear her out. He should have just collected the flash drive and departed. Albert Wesker was not a man who worked well with others, and a mission as sensitive as this one left little room for error.

Yet despite his misgivings, and the obvious mistrust they shared, he could not deny the validity of her plan, and worse, necessity of her aid. Though reluctant to admit it, Albert could not ignore the fact that Claire's frequent work in Africa had left her both familiar with its many cultures, and its tumultuous politics. She also had a variety of contacts that could get them both safely in and out of the continent, without ever endangering of the security their mission.

Her aid, and blatant importance to his mission was not the only thing that troubled him. Albert could not shake the feeling that this decision was about to become yet another mistake to add to those he had made over the past months. Even worse, was the fact it could be his last.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>My apologies for the lagging post and for the weak chapter. In truth this is the first part o what originally was a single chapter. However, due to length I've chosen to divide it into two parts. Here is the first part. The second part has been typed up, but is still in rough draft mode. Time willing I should have it posted up within a couple weeks...Till then thank you for your patience. _


	11. The Mission

**Summary:** Upon discovering the truth of his origins Albert Wesker learns that nothing is as it is seems and that destiny is not always within one's command.

**Author's Note:** This tale is a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

**Beta:** Care and courtesy of Weshallflyaway whose writing never ceases to blow me away!

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><p>In pensive silence, Albert Wesker studied the bustling Liberian cityscape. Despite the early hour, the city streets were bustling with life. All around him people passed by at a leisurely pace, no one particularly eager to get to their destination, while merchants set up shops and tables in preparation of selling their wares. It was a bustling place that boasted of its colourful bazaars and an overwhelming amount of travellers. The sun was barely in the sky, yet the air was incredibly warm; something Albert relished more than he cared to admit. The progenitor virus left him overly sensitive to the cold; a trait he could do without.<p>

Albert had arrived a day prior in West Africa with Claire joining him a few hours later. They chose to meet in the city centre of Monrovia, as their contact would meet them there. It was not the first time since his arrival that he contemplated regret over his decision to have her join him, or as she would aptly note, for him to join her.

From the corner of his eyes he caught sight of Claire silently pacing; arms folded and expression guarded. Ever since their arrival she had not been able to sit still, her muscles tense and eyes wary. Cleary, she was regretting her decision much as he did. Though entirely aware of the irony, Albert also had no interest in drawing unwanted attention.  
>'We need to keep moving,' he warned, grabbing her wrist with a gloved hand. Claire instinctively jerked her wrist free, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'She should be here by now,' she said by way of explanation. Had he not been entirely aware of the risks at hand, Wesker would have mocked Claire for her self-righteous attitude. The entire mission had been her idea.<p>

In silence they moved through the bustling streets of the war torn city. While Claire dressed the part, a brightly patterned dress that was popular with the locals, Albert wore his standard fare, ensuring he would still stand out.

'Really, because that get-up won't draw unwanted attention,' Claire had said upon meeting him at the rendezvous point a few short miles from a run down airport. She was right, but time had not permitted him to establish a proper disguise. In an unexpected turn of events, Albert had learned that Ms. Gionne was also due to meet Ricardo Irving, a longstanding henchman of Alex Wesker. Though he posed as Tricell's head director of the Kijuju's oil production plant, Albert knew his true intentions resided with the production of bioweapons. If Irving was seeking her out on such short notice, then something important was about to unfold. Not wanting to miss the opportunity he had caught the first flight out to Liberia.

As they made their way through the market square, the sounds of a million people going about their business drowned the once peaceful silence. Had he not been imbued with the progenitor virus, Albert would have missed the soft sound of carefully masked footsteps trailing them. Whoever was tracking them was well trained, yet even they could not remain hidden from his heightened senses for long.

'We are being followed,' he noted in quiet tones. Claire's eyes flickered wide, but otherwise she remained indifferent. Unlike her brother, Claire Redfield was not one who reacted on an emotional whim. Guiding their stalker to a rundown abandoned alley, Albert waited till he was certain they were entirely undetected before striking.

With a single fluid movement he had their hunter, a petite African woman, pinned up against the concrete wall of a dilapidated building, the barrel of his magnum firmly pressed against her temple. To her credit, the woman's bowie knife was strategically placed between his ribs.

'Very clever,' he said. Their attacker merely frowned, her eyes focused solely on Claire who watched on behind him.

'Time is wasting away and you choose now to play games?' the woman snapped. 'Irving will be arriving soon. If you want to find him, you'll have to follow me.'

True to her word, Claire's contact had come through.

Not one for small talk, their _guide_ quickly motioned them to a rusted blue Mazda. Albert was never overly concerned with the year or make of vehicles but even he knew the car had been driven well beyond its life expectancy. He did not bother to make mention of it, as it was a common occurrence in this part of the world. Making their way through the bustling streets of Monrovia, Albert took in their surroundings. The Sinkor district where Irving and Ms. Gionne were suspected to have their scheduled meeting would not be too far from their location, if the maps he studied earlier proved accurate. However, at the speed they were driving, Wesker was not entirely confident they would make it in time.

If Albert was unaccustomed to travelling by such primitive means, his compatriot by contrast was entirely at ease with their rickety ride. Their guide was equally indifferent to the fact they were driving in a substandard and very dangerous vehicle. As their driver guided them through the throngs of people, her eyes flickered to the rear view mirror in a subtle attempt to study Albert's profile. Her expression remained stoic, only her dark eyes gave away her unease.

Claire's contact went by the pseudonym of Nadia for reasons of security. Despite the fact that Albert already knew her real identity, along with her family's history with Umbrella, he feigned ignorance. There was no point in further adding to her suspicions. Sheva Alomar was no stranger to outbreaks, nor was she unfamiliar with the harsh realities of war, or the violent battlefronts that came with it.

_ She is as much a victim as I am, as you once were._

Albert stiffened to the chirpy memory of Rebecca's voice whispering in his mind. He had not seen the child since Racoon's demise eleven years prior. In fact he had not thought of the young prodigy scientist since the outbreak of Racoon City. He could not say what triggered her memory in his thoughts; truthfully he did not want to know.

_Think she knows about of photo you took, that day her team, the RPD, won their basketball game against the Racoon penitentiary guards?_ William's phantom whispered into his thoughts. Albert gritted his teeth but did not respond. _ 'Do you think it would break her to know the truth?' _ The phantom figure watched him in amusement from the rear view mirror.

A shiver ran down his spine to the memory. It had been years since he had experienced such strange thoughts; a lifetime ago, before Alex, before the virus, and before the truth. He was different then, soft and weak, distracted by empty possibilities that he was never meant to know. The progenitor virus had changed all that, ensuring he would never be plagued by such petty emotions or attachments, now he was not so sure. With a frown, he ignored Birkin's phantom, instead focusing his thoughts on the task at hand. Instinctively, his gloved fingers lightly brushed against the tiny microchip that sat hidden in a secret fold in his left glove.

'This is your stop,' Sheva stated; her voice drawing Albert back to the present. 'Do what you came to do and leave. I know those who run these parts, they will not take kindly to strangers lurking about. I will wait for you both at the rendezvous point. Understood?' He could not be bothered to dignify the woman's words with a response; did she really believe that they were new to such missions? Claire thanked her and promised to return at the scheduled time.

It was not difficult to locate Irving's approaching form. The scientist was not known for his subtle personality, or his tact. Verbose and loud, he was considered charismatic by some, eccentric by most. No matter what one thought of the man, Irving was not someone easily forgotten. More important, Tricell's head director had a weakness for attractive women. It was the sole reason he had chosen to bring Claire along for the impromptu meeting. Wesker may not have been able to get close to Alex's henchmen directly; Claire however could.

'Irving is approaching from the west side of the bazaar,' Albert noted. Furrowing her brow, Claire frowned as she scanned the shanty shops that decorated the side streets. Her attempt to pretend she had a sense of direction was almost comical. Resisting the urge to sigh, he gave her the tiny microchip. 'To your left, near the butcher's shop,' he clarified. 'Do not let the tracker touch your bare skin or it will absorb into your flesh,' he warned. The red-head gave a single nod watching as he placed the chip carefully onto the buckle of her small brightly coloured purse.

Parting ways with Claire, the former Umbrella agent departed for a nondescript alley that was trapped between two old dilapidated buildings. The shadows of the two buildings made for a good hiding place for one who did not wish to be seen. Certain he was alone, Albert watched from a distance, as the petite woman disappeared into the throngs of people.

_ 'Interesting,' William's voice seemed to call from the shadows where Albert stood. 'You trust your enemy enough to play a role in your well laid plans, yet you never trusted your only friend.'_.

'You were never a friend,' he hissed through his teeth. 'She knows nothing of my plans. I need a quick distraction, and she is best suited for the role required,' In the distance, he could make out Claire Redfield's red hair. Even amongst the visiting tourists the young woman stood out. It did not take long for Irving to catch sight of the petite female.

_ 'In less than five minutes, his contact will arrive. Are you so certain that she'll be able to succeed?'_ William whispered. Albert could almost envision the scientist's raised brow and the smug smirk Birkin often wore whenever he felt himself clever. He suddenly wished William was still alive, if only to wipe that smirk off his face.

'She will succeed in the allotted time,' Wesker remarked in cool tones. He could already see Irving's contact making her way through the crowds. Excella was on time, and looking none too pleased by Irving's lack of focus. Albert could not blame her for it, he was not one for fallibility either. To her credit, Claire Redfield played the role of the confused tourist perfectly. Accidently bumping into the scientist she conveniently dropped her purse at his feet. Irving, ever the noble fool, eagerly picked it up, his hand coming into contact with the tiny bug, or so it appeared.

Fortunately, Claire had been able to stall Ricardo long enough for the device to be absorbed into his skin. Irving bought the ruse, and precious seconds later Albert was able to hear the entirety of their conversation. The gps on the device proved equally effective. Claire prattled on giving empty apologies, while Irving played at being the gentleman he clearly was not. Excella was nearing, causing Albert to grow impatient for Redfield to get a move on.

'That is quite enough, dear heart,' he hissed into the audio device hidden in her ear. Immediately, Claire ended their conversation, and was soon on her way. However, not before Ms. Gionne caught sight of her. Wesker could only hope the woman's observation skills would not haunt them later. Claire Redfield, ever quick on her feet, was soon out of sight, lost amidst the throngs of people who milled about. Acting as a tourist would, she took photos and shopped, pretending to take interest in the cheap trinkets that the rickety shops called souvenirs. As Claire sought to lose their attention, Wesker's own were entirely focused on the conversation unfolding between the two scientists.

'Got something for ya,' Irving drawled, not bothering with the pointless pleasantries.

'You need to be more careful,' Excella snapped.

'What?' Ricardo Irving balked, clearly ignorant of his actions. Albert briefly wondered how someone so idiotic could have ever succeeded in the field of virology.

'That girl could have been a thief, or worse! You know Albert has no tolerance for mistakes,' Excella said in clipped tones. 'And neither do I.' Irving sputtered some pathetic excuse, of which Wesker could not be bothered to listen.

_Surprise, surprise, great minds do think alike!_ Albert clenched his teeth, ignoring Birkin's mockery. In the past, Wesker had little issue with doppelgangers who tried to pose as him. If it bought him additional time, and kept the B.S.A.A and their governments distracted, even better. This however, was a different matter. Meeting in such a public location meant there would be many witnesses. Even worse, those listening in would believe that he, Albert Wesker, was behind it all. Such blatant carelessness infuriated him. The former umbrella agent did not appreciate another making him out to be some idiot, certainly not when the world would soon be watching.

As if picking up his thoughts, Excella briskly ordered Irving to _walk with her._ From a distance, Wesker watched as the lithe scientist led Ricardo, who followed like a well-trained dog at her heels, 'You said you have something for me. Tell me what it is,' Excella said, once they were well out of his sight.

'My associates have found something rather interesting in Spain,' Irving began. 'Have you ever heard of a parasite called 'Las Plagas?'

'Go on,' Excella encouraged. Albert frowned, unable to shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Irving was clearly an idiot, Excella Gionne however, was not. She would know such information was far too sensitive to be shared in such a public place. This was the sort of discussion that occurred behind thick doors, in heavily fortified buildings. Not out in some open café in the midst of a bustling city.

'Some agent's said to be procuring a strand of it, along with its antidote,' the loud-mouthed scientist continued in confident tones. Immediately, Wesker became aware of Claire's absence.

'Who are they working for?' Ms. Gionne demanded.

'They believe it's the organization.'

'They believe, or they know?' Excella pressed on.

'They know,' Irving quickly assured. Unable to note Claire's location, Albert attempted to contact her through their disposable phones; there was only silence. For the umpteenth time, he wondered if all of this was part of an elaborate trap. Instinctively, his fingers slipped to the magnum he carried on his person.

'Albert will need to know of this right away,' Gionne continued.

'He already sent one of his own to shut her down if she comes through,' Irving noted. Albert wondered who, his so called self, had sent to end Ada's mission. Ada Wong was good at what she did, but should Alex's own agent proved more skilled or more exactly obedient, Wesker was certain she would not succeed. It was a disconcerting revelation.

'Then why tell me this?' the CEO demanded in exasperated tones.

'Because of this,' he replied. Wesker scowled to the unseen exchange. He could not say just what _this_ was; they were too far away for even his heightened sight to witness the exchange.

'Excellent,' she purred. In that instant, Albert felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Someone was watching him.

Before he had the chance to react, a hidden form was slamming him hard against the adjacent concrete wall. The attack was so forceful that Albert not only felt but also heard the sound of his left shoulder dislodging itself from its socket. Wesker ignored the blinding pain of his shoulder, instead focusing on the attack at hand. His assailant, a cloaked figure whose features were carefully hidden behind a crow's mask, was swift to emerge from the shadows once more. This time, Albert anticipated the attack; with unnatural speed he barely dodged the gloved fist aimed for his stomach. Immediately, he retaliated, round-housing his attacker, catching them full in the throat. The fighter was swift to recover, but not swift enough to dodge Wesker's right fist that firmly collided with the mask they wore. Blood freely flowed from the crow mask, staining the assailant's black cloak.

With no time to relocate his dislodged arm, or find his ruined audio device, Albert Wesker knew he was at an immediate disadvantage. Though he fought hard to take control of the assault, the former Umbrella agent was soon on the defence. His assailant was as swift as they were deadly. Clearly they too were a viral carrier, which begged the question of their identity. Small in build, and shorter in stature, Albert knew it was not Alex he fought, but someone else. The question remained, who?

Collecting his magnum from its holster he instinctively removed the safety, before firing two quick shots at the masked fighter. The first shot went wide, the second however, had caught them in the right leg just as they were about to kick him in the chest. The near miss bought Albert precious seconds, enabling him to dodge the next round of attacks. It seemed the harder he fought, the more tireless and vicious his assailant became. Not even the gun wound had slowed them down. Furious, at the inexplicable stalemate, Wesker continued to fire his weapon, aiming at the _crow's_ vitals. Though he was rarely known to miss a shot, Albert could not strike his attacker. They were just too swift, and far too agile for his assault. As the last bullet had departed the gun's chamber, Albert heard the welcomed sound of metal hitting the meat. It was a clean shot straight to the _crow's_ chest. The victory was short lived, as he knew it would take more than a single bullet to put down an infected. Even so, Wesker was confident that this time they would slow; he was wrong. The wounds proved to have the opposite effect. As blood flowed freely from their leg and chest, the _crow_ continued to attack, with unnatural speed and extreme agility.

Struggling to fight off the infected human with his good hand, Albert heard the sound of his friend's laughter, and his mocking words whispering in his mind.

_You have finally met your match._

It took only one good kick, and a swing of their right hook before the former Umbrella agent was rendered weaponless. Gritting his teeth, Albert forced back the pain of his wounds as he continued to strike; reaching for his bowie knife with his left hand, while his right arm hung limp and useless. To his horror, the weapon was missing. Quick to recover he slammed a boot against the _crow's_ stomach sending them flying back from the force of his attack. Only then did he note the female's physique beneath the tattered and blood stained cloak. More importantly, he caught sight of the strange glowing device inches above the wound on her chest. It was not the first time he was witness to the red orb, though he could not say where or when he had seen it before.

Suddenly he was a blonde haired boy of six, maybe seven years of age, standing alone before a single paned mirror. Held in place by large tubes emerging from the flesh around his chest was the very same glowing red tumour that his masked assailant now wore. Wesker returned to his senses just in time to barely dodge the woman's attack. He caught sight of the blade that barely missed his ribs and immediately recognized the weapon as his own. The crow woman had clearly snagged it after the initial attack; another disconcerting thought.

With inhuman speed, Albert ducked, once again barely avoiding another fatal attack. He could feel the ice cold steel kissing his neck and hissed in response. Noting the Beretta strapped to her blood soaked thigh, Wesker quickly grabbed it before she had a chance to stop him. _'Favour returned',_ he thought, firing the weapon at the egg shaped control device on her chest. The red orb seemed to absorb the Beretta's rounds despite the woman's blood curdling screams of pain. Frantic, the crow-woman attacked; using his own bowie knight against him. This time she did not miss her intended target.

Albert barely felt the blade digging into the flesh of his side. A breath later, her fingers were tightly wrapped around his throat crushing his trachea shut with viral infused strength. With his back pressed against the crumbling concrete wall of a dilapidated building, he fired the last of her Beretta's shots before weakly attempting to hit the crow woman's face with the butt of the gun. His left arm hung limp and useless by his side, while blood freely flowed from his many wounds. Releasing the gun in hand he tried to pry the woman's fingers from his throat with his right hand, it was to no avail.

As stars began to dance behind his eyes, Albert felt an unfamiliar cold sensation creeping down his spine. It was happening all over again and for what. When had he become so sloppy and so inefficient?

_Just another one of Umbrella's leftovers._ He could almost see Chris Redfield from the corner of his eyes taunting him for his weakness. Infuriated, Albert drew strength from the memory of his old nemesis' words. Grabbing at one of the thick wires that that fed chemicals into the crow woman's bloodstream Wesker, tugged at it with all that was left of his strength.

While stars danced behind his eyes, Albert could almost hear the sound of machines thrumming, and see the bright lights of Spencer's lab glaring down at him in silent accusation.

_Sample number 13._

Oswell Spencer's monotone voice whispered in his mind, while numerous researchers and scientists stared at him from beyond the shadows in detached interest.

No longer able to decipher between reality and what was the past, Albert struggled not to succumb to memories of another life. He refused to consider what was happening, or why; there would be time enough for that later. No matter the cost, he would survive and would emerge victorious.

The heavy tube beneath his fingers suddenly tore free with a loud pop, as an explosion of sparks showered both the woman and him. Wesker did not feel the fire that rained on him, for a powerful jolt of electricity seized his body flinging him like a rag doll into another dilapidated building across the forgotten alleyway. Albert could hear, as much as feel, the age old concrete beneath him crack from the force of contact. Struggling to his feet, Albert's thoughts briefly turned to Claire; she should have joined him by now. She was nowhere to be found.

_No Claire, I see. Well isn't this interesting,_ William Birkin mocked from where he stood, towering over Wesker who had since dropped to his knees. _ Where's the hero when you need them? Oh that's right, villains are always doomed to die alone._ the dead scientist concluded as a smug smirk played on his lips. 'It will take more than that,' Albert spat through clenched bloodied teeth.

A breath later, his body fell limp to the dirt road. So much for the _heroine's_ reliability.


	12. Turning Point

**Summary:** Upon discovering the truth of his origins Albert Wesker learns that nothing is as it is seems and that destiny is not always within one's command.

**Author's Note:** This tale is a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

* * *

><p>Albert Wesker opened his eyes to see the reddish glow of the embryotic fluid. The very same fluid used in the culmination of Umbrella's bioweapons. It was an ocean, and he was drowning in it. He tried to swim, but his limbs would not respond. His body was weighed down by some unseen force. Yet every pore pulsated with a life of its own. He was mutating-no- evolving into something greater than he once had been.<p>

Albert knew better. Power, while the ultimate goal, was not worth the sacrifice if it cost one's mind. This was not part of the plan. His attempts to keep from sinking were to no avail.

'Albert?'

'Albert is that you?'

It was a woman's voice; one both familiar, yet unknown to him; a memory from another life time ago. 'Do you not recognize me?' she pressed on. He did though he could not consciously make the connection.

Albert opened his mouth to speak but the words would not come. Disconcerted, he watched as a woman with arms outstretched, reaching for him called his name while a man held her tight ensuring she would not break free of his grasp. Tears ran down her porcelain cheeks as she pleaded for his return. It mattered not, a breath later, and she fell lifeless to the ground, her limp body draped over the corpse a man he also recognized from another lifetime. Great pools of blood collected around their heads, soaking the ground at his feet. Taken by surprise to the realization that he knew their identities Albert immediately rationalized what he had seen. Clearly, his imagination was running away with him. His parents had been highly respected researchers, the best in their fields no less. They knew he was the future of the human race and did all they could to ensure that he would receive the best the world had to offer. The notion that they had been slaughtered like cattle in an abattoir was utterly absurd. It did not rid him of the nagging doubts that what he was told growing up may not have been entirely accurate.

Suddenly a young Albert was staring into the sterile bright lights of a surgery room. His eyes burned as though on fire, while his chest throbbed to the unseen _talons_ deeply embedded into the flesh below his collar bone. Frightened and disturbed he tried to release the pressure; his hands would not move by his command.

'Resistance is a pointless endeavour, subject thirteen; a bad habit that requires immediate attention.' It was Oswell's words, but Alex's voice that spoke to him through the speakers decorating the surgical room. 'You will follow my orders, whether you will it or not.'

Albert tried to mouth the word _no_ but his lips would not move; his body was not his own. From the corner of his eyes he saw the glowing ruby red orb firmly implanted into his chest. The very same device the plague doctor, or crow woman had been wearing. The masked woman suddenly entered the lab as if reading his thoughts. Albert's body moved of its own accord; attacking the woman who fought back with the deadly grace he had seen only once before. He, like his assailant, immediately froze to the revelation. The plague doctor was none other than the missing Jill Valentine.

'It's working he's coming to!'

Albert's eyes snapped open to the sound of Claire's voice. Disorientated and confused, he rose from where he lay only to discover his legs and arms were firmly restrained. The dried leather belt straps were a clever, if not useless attempt to keep him in place. Even in his weakened state the virus ensured he would not be held hostage for long. With an exasperated sigh Wesker broke free of his restraints. Before he had a chance to grab his firearm, Albert was stopped by the startling warmth of Claire's fingers grasping his bare arm. It was an unexpected if not a futile gesture. Was she so foolish to believe she could stop him?

'The threat is over, you're alright. We've tended to your-' Claire began. Her grip around his wrist was both firm and gentle. When he met her gaze she swiftly withdrew her hand. The absence of her touch was immediately noted. He did not consider the reasoning behind it further. 'Where is the recording? Is the GPS still functional? ' There was no time for petty small talk or pointless explanations. Alex was certain to be aware of their presence in Africa, and worse their intentions as well.

Claire rolled her eyes and gave a frown. 'Yes and yes. Sheva's has offered her assistance in keeping an eye out for Excella and Irving's movements. She has far more contacts amongst the local authorities in the regions than either of us combined,' she added. 'We were able to pick apart the first piece of their discussion, back when they were at the café. The problem is once they depart the two begin conversing in a code neither of us had heard before. Unfortunately, we haven't had much luck deciphering it. Though Sheva thinks…' The young woman continued to prattle on, much to Albert's frustration; he should have known.

_'Here you thought the clever Alex had surrounded himself with empty headed peons. Perhaps the only fool here is you,'_ William whispered over his shoulder. Albert clenched his jaw, as he resisted a scowl. He would not give the deceased researcher the pleasure of seeing his agitation.

'The recording, where is it now?' he demanded in clipped tones. Claire's fell silent to his interruption furthering Albert's annoyance. Time was not on their side, yet she insisted on further delaying matters.

_Typical Redfield behaviour. So dedicated and focussed on running about in circles. Is it any wonder they haven't had much success in stopping anyone?_ William noted in amused tones. Albert ignored the glib remark along with the urge to shoot the phantom. Exasperated, he was about to demand an answer, when Claire broke the silence. 'Sheva?' Her face carried a warning that was usually directed at him. Curious, he raised a brow in question. The feel of a cold gun barrel pressed against the back of his head was the only reply necessary; so much for a civilized exchange.

'Claire, this man is a bio-terrorist; an agent of Umbrella. We need to have him arrested and sent to the authorities. Immediately,' Sheva said in warning.

'Who told you that?' Claire's attempt to play ignorant was pathetic. She was an even worse liar than her idiotic brother. Extending her hands in surrender the young woman stepped closer. Albert felt the gun's barrel press harder against his skull, it was a struggle not to openly sigh.

'I am a former agent of Umbrella Corp, Ms Alomar. If you must make such accusations I suggest you find a more reliable source to collect your information,' Wesker corrected in dry tones. 'I am also the reason Ms Redfield requested your assistance in the first place. Now lower your weapon so we may continue this discussion in a civilized manner.' He could feel Claire's eyes staring at him in disbelief; he tried not to smirk.

Despite the gun's barrel remained firmly pressed against his skull Wesker did not fear for his life. Instead he debated whether or not to remove the woman's weapon with force, or play along as the helpless victim. In the back of the run down motel room, (so he presumed), he could see William's form watching on in amusement, mocking him.

_'Decisions, decisions…'_

'He's right,' Claire reluctantly confirmed. 'The mission to Africa was his idea. I asked to join him so I could learn more about Tricell's recent interactions with Willpharma. Whether we like it or not, we need his help. Wesker's knowledge of bio-warfare and the creation of bioweapons is invaluable,' Claire confessed. Albert did not know what to make of her admittance. He could not recall a time when anyone, much less an enemy, defended him. It then occurred to him that it was Claire who came to his aid after the fight with Jill Valentine. The discovery left him both baffled and suspicious. What did she stand to gain from such a bold risk?

'Listen to yourself Claire! Men like him care nothing for anyone but themselves! Whatever it is that he wants it will not benefit you or anyone else!' Sheva snapped. 'I've seen far too many good people, innocent people, pay the price for the games this man and his associates play! I refuse to stand by and watch as more suffer for it!'

'If you are quite done Ms Alomar, I would appreciate if you would holster your weapon. I trust your superiors have fully informed you of whom and what I am. Attempting to kill me will only cost you your life as I am certain you are fully aware,' he said in dry tones. The African soldier did not respond; he could feel the gun's barrel wavering and knew he had won.

'I am not responsible for what happened to your parents at Plant 42,' he continued. 'I was in Racoon City training the newly formed S.T.A.R.S division as captain. Ask Ms Redfield, her brother also served under my command,' Albert added meeting Claire's gaze. The young woman looked slightly startled at his knowledge of Ms Alomar's past. Clearly, she believed he would actually permit the aid of an outsider without learning all he could about them first. The Redfield's inability to piece together the obvious never failed to amuse him.

'I'm well aware of your history with the S.T.A.R.S tactical force Wesker,' Sheva spat. 'I'm also aware that your real mission was to pit their skills against the B.O.W.S you helped. I too, did my homework,' she added. The gun's barrel jabbed hard against his head adding to Albert's annoyance. It took all of his self-control not to turn on the persistent B.S.A.A. fighter behind him.

'Then an intelligent woman such as yourself would know I cannot be in two places as once. The T-virus may have been my responsibility; Plant 42 was not. Now would you please lower your weapon?' he said in exasperated tones. Albert could hear the soft click of the gun's safety being re-activated. A moment later, and the weight of the barrel against his skull was lifted.

'I'm obligated to report this to my superiors. You should do the same, Claire,' Sheva said in stern tones, blatantly ignoring Wesker's presence.

'But you will not, as it will only lead to difficult questions,' Wesker replied.

'He's also our best chance at stopping Willpharma from continuing their work on the Spanish plague,' Claire added in reluctant tones.

'Really? Then care to explain why this man was seen meeting with one of Tricell's executives in Monrovia? My contact has also sent me a transcript of that meeting. It confirms his role in the Spanish plague,' Sheva argued. The woman was no threat, but Wesker also knew that she was not to be underestimated. Raised a child soldier, Sheva was not prone to the heroic trappings that influenced most westerners. He did not need another mess on his hands.

'I will answer such questions at a later time,' he dismissed. 'Now Dearheart, would you be so kind as to give me that recording.' Wesker ignored Sheva's fierce glare when Claire asked if she could pass it to her.

'I will have my answers one way or another,' Sheva warned. She stepped out of the room shortly after, leaving Albert alone with Claire.

'That was unwise to permit Ms Alomar contact with her colleagues. You knew she was certain to learn of my identity,' he chastised the younger Redfield.

'I didn't exactly have much choice. I couldn't just leave you in the back alley. She knew where to take you without drawing unwanted attention,' Claire said with a frown.

_'How stereotypical; too arrogant, too self-righteous, and too blind to the obvious.'_ William mocked from the far side of the room.

'You should have left him behind. He served his purpose there was no need for him beyond that,' Sheva retorted upon returning to the Spartan room. Wesker frowned in disgust. The soldier could not have been further from the truth.

'Don't be so certain. He has been invaluable to us so far,' Claire argued. Before Sheva had a chance to respond the recording device, along with her gun was immediately relinquished into Albert's care with inhuman speed. It was an unspoken reminder that the virus in his blood had advantages of its own. Sheva moved to attack, ironically, it was Claire who stepped in to stop her. Twice she had come to his defence in as many days.

'While you both continue to bicker over the relevancy of my presence here, Alex continues forward with his plans,' Wesker intoned in dry tones.

'Alex? Who is this Alex he's talking about?' Sheva asked. Claire looked to him in response. This time Wesker had Sheva's full attention.

'Alex Wesker is the real identity of the one your superiors are tracking. He has been posing as me for some time now. I assure you he is not the first to steal my identity, and I am certain he will not be the last,' Albert explained in exasperated tones.

'Claire?' Sheva was clearly suspicious of the admittance. Redfield cast him a quick glance, a silent question met with an unspoken affirmation. If this was to work he would have to gain the soldier's trust whether he liked it or not.

'Alex Wesker is actually Albert's brother, the elder twin,' Claire clarified. 'The B.S.A.A believes he is the real Albert Wesker and they've been tracking him for some time…with the help of an insider.'

'And this insider is none other than the real Albert Wesker,' Sheva concluded with a heavy sigh, before uttering a soft curse in her native tongue of Swahili. 'So we have a doppelganger scenario,' she clarified in dry tones.

'Precisely,' Albert concluded in annoyed tones. Turning to depart the room, he immediately was faced with an annoyed Sheva who stood blocking the exit. Claire came to his defence, permitting Albert leave to the dilapidated mess of a living room. Her behaviour was baffling, if not disconcerting. There were far more pressing matters to attend so the thought was promptly buried.

The living space was hardly what one would call living. Beyond a bug infested couch, a rickety wooden table that sat a broken TV and a single fan covered in cobwebs, there was little else. Disgusted by the sight, Albert slipped on the ear buds and took his place by one of the broken barred windows. With a press of the button, the device crackled to life, taking Albert back to the day of the meeting.

The initial conversation was a cover, yet there was a trace of truth behind it; Irving had something Alex wanted. When they switched to code Albert immediately knew what Irving had shown Excella; a variant strain of the Plagas virus.

The virus was not the only discovery made. 

* * *

><p>Two days had passed since Claire found Albert wounded and unconscious in a derelict alleyway. His assailant was nowhere to be found. Unaware of Albert's identity, their guide was prompt in getting them to a motel in a poor part of town. Claire wanted Albert to receive his comeuppance. She also knew the former scientist was their best chance at putting an end to Tricell's budding bioweapons division. It took everything she had to convince Sheva from reporting the incident to her superiors at the B.S.A. A.<p>

Claire had called upon the discretion and expertise of her long-time friend, Rebecca Chambers. The two first met through Claire's brother, Chris Redfield. Rebecca had just been recruited into Raccoon's former S.T.A.R.S division and she had just returned home for summer holidays. They became fast friends and remained in constant touch even when their careers kept them many miles apart. The renowned virologist and young prodigy now served in the West African B.S.A.A medical research division. The coincidence ultimately saved Albert's life.

Despite Claire's concern over Rebecca's inevitable rejection at helping S.T.A.R.S former captain and traitor, the young woman had sought out her long-time friend. Helpless to do anything, she could only stand by and watch as Rebecca repeatedly administered a series of shots; a strange mixture of blood transfusions. The researcher's blood type though technically mismatched seemed to respond well to the virus; acting as a stabilizer to keep his body from further mutating. There was no need to tend to his wounds, they mended without effort. The fever and the nightmares that followed were another matter entirely. Claire imagined Wesker was not much of a peaceful sleeper. In fact, she suspected he required very little rest. His violent feverish thrashings, however was entirely unexpected. It was as though he was tearing himself apart from the inside out. It was another twenty-four hours before the fever would broke, and about as long before Claire could sleep.

As their tormented patient finally fell into a deep sleep Claire took the time to explain the matter to the researcher. Fortunately, Sheva had errands to attend of her own permitting privacy. To her immense surprise Rebecca did not rebuke her words or chastise her for her foolish decision to aid Albert in his mission. Instead she gave her a single warning.

_'Claire, I know you are doing this for a greater good. But you must realize Albert not in this for anyone else but himself. Once you've served your purpose in his eyes Wesker will soon dispose of you.'_

There was no judgment in the Rebecca's voice, only gentle concern. At one time Claire would not have questioned the matter. Wesker was evil; a monster who was beyond forgiveness or redemption. She knew it was not simple, not anymore. She could still remember the doubt in Albert's voice when he spoke the truth he had so recently discovered. It was disturbing, frightening even, to see her brother's nemesis so vulnerable or so lost. What she discovered that night confirmed what she had already suspected for some time. Wesker too, was little more than a pawn in a greater game. It also gave her hope that there was more to the man than blind ambition and villainy.

'You expect me to believe that he too, is a victim of Umbrella?' Sheva's words brought Claire back to the present.

'Believe what you like, but it is the truth,' she answered meeting the soldier's hard gaze.

'I would not call one of Umbrella's most renowned players a pawn! Wesker deserves to be sentenced to death for his crimes against humanity, yet we've saved him, and for what?' Sheva balked.

'It's complicated,' Claire said. It was not the answer the soldier wanted to hear; it was the only one she could give.

'Then start talking,' Sheva replied. Over the past couple days; Claire had been mindful to speak little if anything in regards to Albert's history. The matter of him once serving Umbrella was entirely avoided. She knew of Sheva's blind hatred of the failed pharmaceutical company and needed her alliance. Unfortunately, the truth could not be buried for long.

It was with great reluctance, for she knew Albert would not approve, that Claire spoke of the fateful night when he had broken into her apartment, and all that followed.

'This is all he knows. Had it not been for Spencer's influence who knows what he could have become,' Claire quietly concluded. It was some time before either woman spoke.

'Even if what you say is true, that still does not excuse his actions,' the soldier said breaking the heavy silence that had settled between them.

'Can you blame him for having such a twisted sense of morality when all his life he was taught that wrong is right?' Claire asked.

'That man is responsible for the deaths of hundreds and thousands of lives, yet he is incapable of remorse,' the soldier retorted in unforgiving tones.

'You can't tell me that you never once did anything during your time with the coalition that you were taught was right, only to later learn was wrong,' Claire gently pressed on.

Sheva fell silent; her expression a mix of anger and pain. 'Umbrella was responsible for my parent's death, and countless many more. Am I to overlook that? To pretend that never happened?' she quietly asked.

Claire's heart went out to her; she knew all too well what it meant to be robbed of one's family. She also knew they were not the only ones who had lost everything to men who lusted after power and wealth. 'Umbrella destroyed his family and his life too, Sheva,' she explained. 'Albert knows the truth now, and I think he is now at a crossroad. Just as you had once been.'

'He's nothing like me,' she replied in flat tones. Claire knew little of the woman's history, save that she had once been a child soldier. Though she knew the soldier was right, she also knew there had been a time when most would have thought the same of Sheva Alomar.

'No he is not. But even he deserves a chance to break free from the past,' Claire said. Despite his heinous crimes she remained confident that Albert Wesker was not without hope.

The silence that fell between them was heavy and long. Sheva broke it with a heavy sigh. 'Very well I will do what I can. But so we are clear, I'm doing this for my people. Not for you, and certainly not for him,' she warned.

'Good.'

Both women turned with a start to Albert's interruption. Claire could not say how long he had remained standing silent at the entrance listening to their conversation. She could only hope he had the scruples not to speak of it.

'I have deciphered their code. As we speak, a variant strain of the Spanish plagas virus has been leaked out amongst the Ndipaya tribes living in the marshlands south of the oilfields,' he said in his usual dry tone. 'It will only be a matter of days before the entire region is a hot zone.'

Claire heart fell to her stomach; by her side, Sheva's face turned ashen. There was no need for further words; it was Raccoon City all over again.


	13. Gambit

**Author's Note:** This tale is a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

* * *

><p>'Do you know why we have called this meeting?'<p>

Claire gave a nod, as did Sheva Alomar. Side by side the warrior women stood in silence; surrounded by the upper echelons that made the up North American, and West African B.S.A.A. divisions. Amongst those numbers was none other than Claire's older brother, Chris Redfield. She knew that one day she would have to answer for her actions; this was not quite as she had imagined it.

'Your testimonies may be accurate, but without solid evidence we don't have a foot to stand on,' stated a stern looking officer who hailed from the West African divisions. 'Tricell has a long standing reputation with the pharmaceutical consortium. We can't afford to make such accusations,' the elder woman warned.

'Understood, sir,' Sheva politely answered. Claire knew better than to speak. The less they knew of Albert Wesker's influence the better; it was the only way to ensure their help.

'Claire Redfield. It has been brought to our attention that you have been providing us, as well as our associates, Terrasave, with some rather sensitive information. Care to tell us how you've come into contact with such classified details?' Drawing a deep breath, Claire met the man's watchful gaze. His eyes, though hazel, was as steely and detached as Albert Wesker's own. Men like him may serve the greater good, but she knew all too well that they were little more than well-leashed monsters.

'You don't have to answer that, Claire. I know you've done nothing wrong,' Chris cut in. His interruption earned him a sharp look from his fellow officers. A breath later, and all eyes were back on Claire. As much as she wanted to relinquish the truth, it was just not possible; not with Chris present.

_'The greatest lies are always based on truth. Convince yourself that it is real, and they will believe it too.'_ The memory of Albert's words whispered in her thoughts.

'I have a contact within an organization that has yet to be made known to us,' Claire carefully answered. It was the truth for the most part, Albert Wesker, was after all, the creator of _The Organization._

'You are certain that this contact of yours can be trusted to provide accurate Intel?' The Major from the B.S.A.A West Africa division was doubtful. Claire could not blame the elder woman for her misgivings.

'Absolutely. All the information I have given you came from this nameless source. From what I've been told, they have yet to fail us,' Claire said.

'Why the interest? What are they getting out of this?' Chris cut in. She knew his question mirrored what everyone in the room was thinking. In her mind's eye, she could still see Albert's shadowed form standing over her bed, speaking truths and secrets she was not meant to hear.

'I can't say for certain, but I believe this is personal,' Claire carefully admitted. Her answer was not what they wanted to hear.

'If any of this is accurate then it means we have a day, maybe two, before it's too late,' Sheva said, coming to Claire's defence. 'Truthfully, I believe it may have already been released amongst the tribes inhabiting the oil fields.'

'Do we have confirmation of that, agent Alomar?' the Major asked. The concern was evident in the elder woman's eyes; Claire's heart went out to her as well.

'I know we only have the deciphered recording, and the word of Claire's contact,' Sheva reluctantly admitted. 'However, a tracking device was placed on Irving. It will only be a matter of time before it's either discovered, or dissolves into his blood stream, but it's a start.'

'There's one more thing,' Claire cut in. Recalling Albert's words of warning before they parted ways the young woman briefly hesitated. She had told Wesker that she would not to speak of Jill to anyone; her loyalty to Chris made it impossible. 'There's been a sighting of an agent who has gone M.I.A in West Africa, in the city of Monrovia.'

Chris was the first who spoke out. 'The missing agent is it-' he began. Claire gave a brief nod as she met his gaze.

'Yes, it's your former partner, Jill Valentine.'

* * *

><p>Many miles away, Albert Wesker watched the B.S.A.A meeting from the screen of his laptop. Their security though top of the line by legal standards remained painfully primitive to what he owned. He only had Claire to thank for that. He could not have planned it better if he tried. Not only did Ms Redfield believe the approximation of the outbreak, but she, along with Ms Alomar, had convinced the leaders of the B.S.A.A's North American and West African divisions of it as well. By the time they arrived to the autonomous zone, the plagas II would be in full blood. Enabling him not only to witness its full capabilities, but how B.S.A.A would fair against it. Such in depth field results were always rare and entirely invaluable.<p>

Ever loyal to her useless brother, Albert had also counted on Claire speaking out to her Chris. With the knowledge of Jill's survival, as well as her approximate whereabouts, the elder Redfield, as expected, was the first to take the bait.

'Always playing the hero,' Albert murmured with a bemused look, 'so predictable.' With an unwitting Chris to keep Alex and his partner Excella busy, Albert was free to complete his own personal mission without too much interference. With good fortune, Claire would be ordered in on Terra-save's behalf to tend to the hot zone that had already unfolded a week prior. As loathed as he was to admit it, the young woman was proving herself to be more useful to his plans than he once believed.

_Is it really worth all this loss of life?_

Albert, about to activate an encrypted channel, paused in mid-action to the phantom voice of Rebecca Chambers. In the reflection of his laptop, the former scientist could almost see the young woman watching him intently. Her expression was a mix of disappointment and disgust.

'Yes,' he briskly answered; his gloved fingers swiftly closing the lap top. He had no desire to explain himself further; certainly not to her of all people. Rebecca Chambers was more than a former member of S.T.A.R.S, she was a reflection of a time long past; a moment of weakness, and a mystery since answered. Albert never imagined their paths would ever cross again, certainly not after Raccoon City. Yet Rebecca, had proven him wrong.

It was her DNA, her blood, (ironic given its incompatibility with his own blood type) which kept the progenitor virus within his veins from turning parasitic. Like a thief in the night the young scientist had slipped into his life only to slip out once more without him ever knowing. Had it not been for Claire's admittance, Albert would have been none the wiser. Now that he was aware—immediately, he buried the thought; he had no use for doubts or worse, regrets. It did not stop the phantom memory of Rebecca from pressing on.

_'I thought you were your own person now. That you walked away from Spencers web of deceit. Was I wrong in my assessment?'_

Albert ignored the young woman's words. He had no use for empty sentiments, or questions of morality. Breathing a heavy sigh, he re-opened his laptop and barked out the order to activate private communications.

'Encryption number 4822-'

_ 'Why are you continuing to be his pawn?'_ Claire whispered in his ear. Struggling to contain his agitation Albert ignored the phantom voice, it was to no avail.

_ 'Because he's just another failed experiment. One of Umbrella's leftovers.'_ Chris mocked from the shadows across from where he stood.

'I belong to no one! My destiny is my own!' Albert growled through clenched teeth.

_Then prove it._ Spencer instructed from where he stood just beyond Albert's view. He could almost see the old man watching him with a smirk on his worm like lips; taunting him from beyond the grave.

'Incorrect encryption code,' The computer chimed. Frustrated, and no longer focussed he slammed the laptop shut with a growl of disgust. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Wesker forced his thoughts to clear. In the past, he always did what had to be done, what needed to be done, what no one else was willing to do. The virus had always graced him with clarity, the ability to rise above petty emotions. Now doubts plagued him at every turn, in ways he had never known even before the virus. Which begged the question why now, and why not before?

_You're better than that, Albert_

The memory of Claire's words replayed in his mind. It immediately reminded him of their many interesting, if not strange, conversations where she would try to tempt him with notions of morality; fanciful ideals that had no place in his world. It had been some time since he had indulged in her obsession with romantic idealisms. Much to his surprise, Albert almost missed their intense debates and discussions, as it was oddly refreshing, if not amusing. It was the thrum of his cell phone vibrating on the table that drew his thoughts to the present. The encrypted number revealed it was none other than _Dearheart_ herself.

'I trust they have been made aware of the situation?' Albert asked by way of greeting. It was always prudent to permit the illusion of ignorance over revealing how much one truly knew. As expected, the young woman was none the wiser.

'Yes, Sheva has been ordered to investigate. I'm joining her on part of Terra-save. I-' Claire briefly faltered, clearly struggling to find the words to continue. 'I told Chris about Jill,' she confessed after a long pause. Her honesty was entirely unexpected. Silenced by the admittance he waited for a further explanation, some sort of pious judgment.

'I'm sorry, I should have kept silent,' Claire's words were barely audible. Loyalty clearly was a valued Redfield trait, another notion Albert could never quite fathom. Nor could he imagine what he did to earn it.

_Really Albert, how naïve,_ William chided as he took a seat on the edge of the desk. _She's only apologizing because she knows there are bugs in the B.S.A.A offices._

'Of course. I should have known better,' Albert replied. It was unclear who his words were directed at.

'He's my brother Albert, and Jill has been his partner for years. I didn't think it'd be right to keep that from him, not after all he's been through,' Claire explained in sheepish tones. 'I guess...I thought it better you hear it from me rather than-'

'Learn of it first hand,' Albert concluded in dry tones. 'How loyal of you,' The mockery sounded weak even to his ears.

'What would you have me do? Leave her to suffer at the hands of your asshole brother? Besides, with Chris in Kijuju learning what he can of Jill's whereabouts you needn't worry about him interfering with whatever it is you're planning,' Claire argued.

Albert could think of far more fitting demises for the smart mouthed soldier. He held his tongue; it was not the time, or place, for such arguments. 'When are you and Ms Alomar expected to arrive to the hot zone?' he inquired.

'We leave tonight for the villages located in the marshlands, just outside the oilfields,' she confirmed. 'If all goes as planned there will be no hot zone, thanks to you.' A lesser man might have been moved to guilt, to the sincerity and gentle pride heard in Claire's voice. Albert could not be bothered with such petty emotions; they would all learn the truth soon enough.

'Then we will meet at the rendezvous point as planned,' he stated. There was a moment of silence at the other end.

'Albert, be careful,' Claire said breaking the quiet in an equally sincere tones.

'Naturally. Do take care of yourself, Dearheart.'

Ending the call, Wesker realized, much to his disconcertment, that he actually meant it. Disturbed by the revelation, he promptly turned his attentions to the next course of action, the infiltration of Alex's headquarters in Tricell, Africa. It was time to beat the man at his own game.

Re-activating his computer, Albert manually typed in the encryption code that would visually connect him to Excella Gionne. The very same channel, that Tricell's future heir always used when communicating with Alex, whom she still believed was the real Albert Wesker.

It had been known to Albert for some time that they kept in contact often via this channel, even when Alex was on his more covert duties. Such bad habits made it all too easy for covert interceptions.

With Alex conducting research on a remote island south of West Africa; all messages sent to Gionne, were pre-recorded and then sent at predetermined time. Tonight would be no different. Only this time, it would be Albert's message that would reach Excella's attention. With a few well-placed words, Alex's world was certain unravel before his very eyes. If Albert was truly fortunate, Chris Redfield would be destroyed along the way.


	14. Condenado

**Summary:** Upon discovering the truth of his origins Albert Wesker learns that nothing is as it is seems and that destiny is not always within one's command.

**Author's Note:** This tale is a continuation of BetaReject's one-shot tale A Question of Destiny. As such I have received her permission to continue with her tale.

* * *

><p>'The situation is under control. Nature has ensured the virus remains quarantined in the swamp lands. The perfect testing ground for the B.S.A.A. troops.' Excella purred through the encrypted audio. Albert smirked to her words. Gionne had taken the bait, believing him to be none other than Alex. Fortunately, the pair was far too arrogant to ever consider the possibility of another capable of accessing their private channel.<p>

'We have a problem.' Albert knew he had the scientist's full attention.

'Impossible! Irving may be a fool but he knows his place. I've seen to it personally that there would be no unwanted interruptions to our plan,' she said. Despite her bravado, he could hear the tinge of doubt and fear in her voice. It was almost too easy.

'Irving is irrelevant. This matter pertains to us directly.'

'Come now Albert, no need to play coy. What is it?' This time there was no denying the concern in her voice. Excella, for all her brilliance, proved more gullible than Wesker could have imagined.

'The imposter is on enroute to Africa even as we speak. I am confident he plans to make another attempt to collect and compromise our work. Furthermore, I have learned that he has been in contact with the B.S.A.A. providing them with sensitive information pertaining to our operations. I believe it is his intent to use them as distraction-' Albert let his voice trail off.

'Divide us and steal the spoils,' Excella readily concluded. The tension heard in her voice confirmed she believed his every word. 'Very well. How do you propose we settle this problem?'

'He is certain to make contact with you, to gain access to our work. When he does, you will need to play ignorant of his ruse. You must not let him know that his cover has been compromised. Then you will report all that transpires to me.'

'And how am I to know if it's you or him?' Excella asked. Albert hesitated uncertain how Alex would respond.

_Give her a code name, a word only you both would know._ William intoned. Albert scowled to the phantom's mocking tone. He had indeed considered used code; it was the matter of what code to use that proved a problem. Albert was not known for his imagination. Fortunately for him, Excella had a phrase in mind. The Italian proverb meant nothing to him, but he was certain it carried a special meaning for them.

'We will meet as previously discussed and together we will tend to this matter swiftly,' he concluded before promptly ending the transmission. With Excella unwittingly on his side, the time had come to end the charlatan's charade.

_Foolish woman, she really believes she's in love_ William's phantom noted. Albert could almost see his deceased friend watching him from a chair that sat in front of his desk.

'Or that he returns her affections,' Albert sniffed, closing his laptop.

William laughed. _If she believes that, she does not know you at all._ Albert gave the phantom a hint of a smirk. So long as she continued to believe she had Alex's affections she would remain easy prey for his plans.

_The only person who does not know who you are, is you._ Claire's phantom whisper was purposely ignored as he collected his laptop. Albert refused to consider the truth of her words as he departed for the shipyards as planned. He could not afford further delays, and had even less time for self-doubts brought on by past actions. It did little to prevent recent memories from replaying in his mind.

_' So what did that code really say?' It was night when Claire had approached him. Long after her colleague had departed for her room. Albert suspected it was Claire's turn to keep watch. He also speculated she had volunteered to ensure this conversation occurred. 'Sheva may believe your lies because there is too much at stake for her to otherwise question it. But this is not my first time at this game, Albert. So just cut to the chase and tell me the truth.'_

Wesker smirked to the memory, Claire unlike her brother Chris, had always been quick to catch on. 'What do you believe it contains?' he had challenged. The younger Redfield, readily took the bait.

_'I believe we're already too late. You intended this for all this—to use us as test subjects against the Uroboros virus._

_Albert's gaze had turned to the night sky. By day the heat was a welcomed relief. In the evening temperatures dropped considerably making it almost unbearably cold. Not even his warmth of his leather suit could keep out the chill that penetrated his very bones. Ever mindful of such vulnerabilities, Albert was careful to hide his discomfort._

_'You brought her this far, no use backing down now,' William's phantom had mocked, while watching on just out of sight._

_'Alex is responsible for the release of Uroboros. When it was unleashed I was...otherwise indisposed, as you are most certainly aware. Had I been completely honest from the start both your colleague and yourself would have responded in an irrational fashion, instead of acting in a productive manner,' he said._

_'Productive manner?' Claire spat through clenched teeth; her fingers balling into white knuckled fists._

_Albert continued as though she had not spoken. 'Running blindly into a hot zone is counter-productive. Now your superiors have been made aware and will be able to assist you,' he concluded. Claire continued to glare at him in silent accusation. He already knew what she would say, for all her spontaneity, she could be painfully predictable._

_'Which works perfectly with your plan to use them as guinea pigs for the Uroboros outbreak,' she snapped in disgust. It was baffling to imagine how one could be so intelligent, yet so very foolish. He briefly wondered if both Redfield siblings were so _gifted.__

_'You get to play the hero, and save the day, while I get my research back. I do not understand why you are so troubled by this Dearheart,' he said, believing their conversation to be at an end._

_Claire took her cue and turned to leave. Pausing at the door to his bedroom and temporary office she turned to face him one last time. 'You believe yourself a King in this game of chess Albert, but do not forget that once, you too, were another's pawn.'_

'Ache Il sole passa sopra il fango,' The sound of Excella's purr in his ear drew Albert back to the present.

'E no simbratta' he readily replied. Albert's knowledge of Italian was limited, but the phrase was a familiar proverb. It was a strangely romantic sort of quote the kind that Annette and William Birkin would have appreciated. _The sun passes over filth and is not defiled._

With the pleasantries out of the way Albert went straight to business. 'Is everything in order?'

Excella's perfect lips curled into a smirk. 'But of course.'

'Excellent. Then let us begin.' No further words were exchanged as she led him from the docks to an aged warehouse. The dilapidated buildings proved the perfect cover. Not even Albert, with his extensive intel had been aware of its location until recently.

The security office was oddly Spartan and worn, containing only a single window that over looked the labs. Another attempt to dissuade possible intruders or the overly curious Albert surmised. Unaware of his observations, Excella set her suitcase on the worn table the sat below the window. 'It's time,' she said with a glance back to him. As expected, within the suitcase's padded confinement sat his life's work; neatly secured within sterile syringes.

_Think fast friend, time is not on your side,_ Williams whispered in his ear. No self-respecting scientist ever used themselves as a guinea pig; so Albert was raised to believe. As a grown man he learned the truth was less a matter of do as we say, and more not as we do.

When Excella's phone suddenly chimed, Albert knew the tide had turned in his favour. Her troubled expression said all that he needed to know. To her credit, Gionne did not hesitate as she quickly text back a reply. 'He wishes to make contact on the private channels. Somehow he's broke through the encryptions,' she said in concern.

'That should come as no surprise. He has tried to infiltrate our security systems in the past,' Albert noted. 'Now the time has come for us to use it against him.' Assured by his statement the young woman smirked. Her eyes flickered to the open suitcase, reminding him that there was still the matter of acquiring the samples before it was too late.

'Speak with him as he intends and then report to me,' Albert said, ignoring the woman's unspoken question. 'Tend to our unwanted guest, and then we will attend to the matter at hand.' Satisfied with his answer she slipped a hand to his chest letting it linger longer than necessary; a less than subtle seduction attempt. Excella departed the sound of her hells tapping against the steel floor echoed down the hall. Leaving Albert more grateful at her departure, than being the object of her attention.

As predicted, the audio devices used for the private channels were kept tucked away, out of sight. That sort of technology was rare and highly secretive; the sort associated with secret services and military intelligence. Albert imagined the devices were located within a hidden surveillance room; reminding him of Chief Irons and his absurd notions of security. It was a brilliant tactic for keeping things out of sight from the common folk, but hardly effective for one who was trained. This time it proved an unexpected advantage.

_What sort of woman wears a dinner gown and bar heels to work?_

'Not your sort clearly,' Albert murmured ignoring the twinge of relief felt at the sound of Claire's phantom voice. There was no response to that. Even so, he could almost envision her amusement as she watched on just beyond his line of sight.

In Gionne's absence the former agent was quick to collect what he needed. If the mission was to be success there could be no room for error. No sooner had he swapped the samples of PG67AW with placebos, when Albert heard the approaching sound of Excella's heels clacking against the steel floor. Collecting the suitcase he set on the couch and took his seat, in preparation for her impending arrival.

_One down, one more to go. How do you suppose your sweet Dearheart is getting along?_ Wesker stiffened to William's mocking tone. He could see the scientist's smirking from where he sat on the old couch; his arms folded and brow raised in amusement.

'That does not concern me,' Albert snapped. Fortunately, Excella returned before he could register the lie.

'It is as you say, the fool suspects nothing,' she mused, collecting one of the placebo vials from the suitcase. 'He's to meet me at the shipping docks. Before he knows it he'll have walked straight into our trap, just as planned,' she purred, taking her seat next to him, with all the grace of a feline. Excella had a model's physique, and a prodigious mind to back her claim to Tricell's empire. Everything about her was carefully crafted to give the appearance of opulence, right down to the rare and very expensive perfume she wore. Only her eyes gave her away, reminding Wesker that she was more than just another wasted by product born into wealth. Gionne was very much a predator in her own right; the embodiment of wealth, power and danger. Albert could understand his brother's fixation with her, yet he felt none of the attraction, only a weary sense of boredom. Such women were dreadfully predictable, Excella was no exception.

'The preparations are almost complete. Then we can leave,' she mused, tapping the needle with manicured fingers. The leather of his gloves creaked in protest as Albert clenched a fist, while rolling up the sleeve of his shirt in preparation for the shot.

'Good.' He said hardly bothered to give Excella his full attention. With great care she injected the placebo into his arm. Leaving Albert's thoughts to return to the past. To the fateful night when his life was forever changed with the prick of another needle.

_A puppet can only dance to the tune of his master's choice._ Oswell's voice rasped in his ear. Recoiling in disgust to the memory Wesker swiftly rose to his feet, suddenly eager to move. He was no one's puppet; not anymore. If only he could be entirely certain that was the truth.

'…You know I was surprised Las Plagas was such a success. When you first arrived I had my doubts. And now Uroboros is complete,' Excella prattled on.

_A hodgepodge mix of your life's work spliced with an ancient parasite. How quaint._ William mocked taking Albert's seat on the edge of the couch. Wesker bit back a scowl. The dead scientist's mockery was expected; it did nothing to lighten his mood. Years of research undone by a thief and a clever hack: disgusting.

'Your position at Tricell is secured,' he answered in dry tones. Excella for all her arrogance and obvious intelligence, was oddly insecure with regards to her career. Making it easy to prey on her ego, ensuring her compliance.

'Oh I have my eyes set on something much bigger,' Excella purred. Her fingers lightly caressed his back causing him to sniff in disgust. Her attempts to make him feel like a mouse in a trap had clearly failed. He did not know whether to be amused or disgusted. 'You'll be needing a partner right?' she continued closing the distance between them. 'Someone suitable to join you in your new world. I believe I've proved I'm worthy, haven't I?'

Excella's fingers slipped to Albert's waist and for a briefest instant, it was not manicured nails he saw resting against his chest, but fingers calloused from long hours of riding a motorcycle. Nor did he smell her expensive perfume. Rather it was the faint trace of worn leather, cheap shampoo and fresh rain that caught his scent. Standing in place of the haughty geneticist was the young biker woman, his grudging partner who watched him intently with sharp blue eyes. Startled, he instinctively froze. A breath later and Claire's phantom was gone.

Disgusted by Excella's seduction attempts, and disturbed by the illusion he had just witnessed, Wesker was swift to regain his lost control. With a gloved hand he grasped Excella by the jaw, directing the geneticist's attention to his hidden gaze. A less than subtle attempt to enforce his authority. As expected, Gionne did not take kindly to the gesture; her dark eyes flashing in rage at his treatment of her. 'Perhaps you have,' he replied. Released from his iron grip Excella jerked away providing him with much needed space.

_Always such a charmer._ William noted in amusement. _And to think I used to wonder why you could never keep a girl._

Before Albert had a chance to bite back a remark, the voice of another drew his attention. 'The B.S.A.A. are here.' It was the monotone voice of crow woman who had attacked him back in the alleys of the Sinkor district, better known to him as Jill Valentine.

'It appears your old friend Chris Redfield has come to pay a visit. Do I sense concern?' Excella taunted. Claire and Sheva had arrived right on time. As expected, Jill's lapdog Chris had tagged along. Everything was going according to plan. Yet he could not shake the nagging feeling that something was amiss.

_Yes, why are you so concerned?_ William cut in, watching him intently from where he sat on the worn couch. _It's not Chris, you worry about is it?_

'The plan is in its final stages, I will not tolerate delays,' Albert snapped, through clenched teeth. Shaking her head in annoyance Excella collected her suitcase and swiftly departed with Jill in tow.

Alone for the moment, Albert thoughts returned to the fateful night at Spencer's mansion.

_A new superior breed of humans…Creating a new world. The progenitor virus…you are the last…I was to become a god._ The old man's words still haunted his thoughts, plaguing his mind with doubts, shaking his once indomitable confidence. Was anything he did of his own volition? And if so, how could he be certain? In his mind's eye Albert could still feel the Spencer's heart weakly beating in his hand, right before he tore it out. Just as he could smell his creator's putrid stench even as he mocked the dying man's greatest dream.

_The right to become a god. That right is now mine._

'Perhaps I should thank you Spencer,' he murmured. If nothing he had done in his life was of his own accord, Albert knew without a doubt that moment in time had belonged to him, and him alone. Everything that was worth anything, always came at a high price. Freedom was no exception.

His watch gave a soft chime, alerting him of an incoming message. Highly encrypted, and in code Albert did not need to guess whom was addressing him. The message held the changing coordinates of Claire's location within the labs. The irony of the situation brought a smile to his lips. _How clever of you Dearheart, letting that little detail slip by without your fool brother ever knowing,_ He thought.

His amusement was cut short to the realisation that Claire and her company were moving far faster than predicted. _Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock_ Chris's voice mocked from beyond his sight. Biting back a curse, Albert promptly sent back coordinates of his own. By placing Jill's photo into the B.S.A.A system where Chris could easily access it, he had ensured the soldier would respond according to plan. Wesker could not have predicted just how quickly the soldier would have responded. Not even Sheva or Claire could slow him down. They were moving faster than anticipated, creating a new problem. With so much hanging in the balance, Albert could not afford Chris to prematurely learn the truth of his full involvement, or the identity of his twin. He would have to act quickly, or risk losing it all a second time. It was time for Chris to be reunited with Jill.

Swiftly he departed for the monarch room. The sound of Spencer's laughter echoing off the walls, and in his mind.


	15. Tick Tock

**Author's Note:** Much of this scene is more or less a re-enactment of the Monarch room scene in RE5. As such all credit goes to Capcom! =D

* * *

><p>Approaching the Monarch room Albert heard the familiar voices of Chris Redfield and Excella Gionne. Always predictable, the ex-S.T.A.R.S soldier was barking demands as though he expected them to be followed without question.<p>

The great doors the led to the ancient room automatically parted just as he approached. Heightened senses permitted Albert to hear the quiet sound of gears twisting and turning, permitting the heavy stone to part in otherwise perfect silence. Upon entering, Albert caught sight of Jill Valentine, clearly under Excella's obvious control, unleashing a series of vicious attacks against her former partner. The woman's skills, were unprecedented, a fact he knew first hand.

He could almost hear Claire's voice reminding him to maintain his character. _'Chris will not notice the nuances between Alex and yourself, but Jill may, and I'm certain Excella will.'_ Alex's improper use of language only added to Albert's disdain of the man; worse was the fact that most everyone believed him to be that ignoramus thief. 'Stop playing around, we want some answers!' His thoughts were forced back to the present at the sound of Chris' voice. It was all he could do to openly sigh. The elder Redfield had not yet learned that brute force does not always work.

'You haven't changed,' Albert smirked, drawing everyone's attention.

'Wesker! You are alive!' Chris balked.

'So this is Wesker?' Sheva, to her credit played the ignorant partner perfectly. Not even her dark eyes gave her away. Much to his chagrin, Claire had kept Ms. Alomar up to date on the details of their mission. She had ascertained that the soldier would be a valuable asset and potential ally. Her instincts proved correct, though Albert suspected it had nothing to do with loyalty to them, rather to her people.

'We last met at the Spencer estate wasn't it?' he purred with a slight wave of his hand. Long hours of study and observation had taught Albert how to mimic Alex's movements, his use of language. The performance had to be impeccable; there could be no room for error. 'Well isn't this one big family reunion,' he continued, approaching Jill's cloaked form. The two B.S.A.A. soldiers watched him intently their weapons drawn. Albert did not know whether to be amused or disgusted by Chris' blatant ignorance. For a man who served as Jill's partner for years, it was baffling that he could not piece her identity either through her body language or fighting style. Fortunately, the man was too ignorant to realize he was not Alex. Fortunately, Ms. Excella was too infatuated with Alex to see anything but what she wanted to see.

'I would expect you to be happier to see us,' he continued as he approached Jill. Gionne's control over her ensured the former S.T.A.R.S fighter would not respond to his close proximity.

'Us?' Chris murmured. His inability to piece together the obvious infuriated Albert. It was insulting to think that this was the same man who repeatedly undermined his careful plans in the past.

'So slow to catch on,' Wesker mocked. It took all his will power not to openly sigh in disdain, or outright attack as he was sorely tempted to do. Standing behind Jill he carefully drew back the hood of her cloak revealing her identity for all to see.

Chris was quick to react. His shock, disbelief and the desperate need to play hero of the day was painfully predictable, even for him. 'Jill? Jill! It's me Chris!' he exclaimed lowering his weapon, and taking a step forward as if expecting her to rush into his arms. Sheva looked between them with doubt and concern. Unlike her foolish partner, she had enough training and common sense to keep her weapon ready.

'What? Are you sure it's her?' Sheva asked. Her suspicion obviously directed at Wesker.

'The one and only,' Albert said with a slight dramatic bow, entirely aware of Excella's watchful eye. As if on cue the geneticist released her _leash_ over Jill permitting her to viciously attack Chris kicking him with such force that he flew back. With unnatural speed she dove into a backflip, using his falling body as a springboard in the process.

Sheva was quick to respond firing her weapon while Jill was still in mid-air. Her precision and speed was impeccable. Had her assailant not been infected, Albert knew Ms. Alomar would have been dead long before she hit the ground. The virus enabled Jill to dodge Sheva's attacks with ease allowing her to roundhouse the soldier rendering her without a weapon. Before the fighter had a chance to respond, Jill performed another elaborate attack. Wrapping her legs around Sheva's neck Jill completed another elegant back flip that violently threw the soldier to the ground. Chris was too dazed to proper respond, allowing Jill to continue her onslaught with ease. Grabbing his gun arm with unnatural ease she proceeded to choke him with her other hand.

Watching the battle unfold with much amusement, Albert barely registered Excella's presence until she placed the device that controlled Jill into his gloved hands. With a hint of a smile and a nod Ms. Gionne quietly departed the room, intent on meeting Alex in the shipyards a short distance away.

The remote control felt oddly heavy in his hands, as Albert's thoughts turned to a time when he was the one being controlled. He could almost feel the sting of the needles that held the device to his chest, and the heavy numbness that poured over his body whenever it was activated. He could still recall the silent horror of helplessly watching his body respond to another's command. The memory was promptly buried. There was no time for petty distractions, certainly not from a childhood best forgotten.

Quick to her feet, Sheva aimed her weapon nearly pulling the trigger when Albert swiftly interceded, knocking the soldier out of the way. He could not afford her damaging the device hidden within the Jill's battle suit. Ms. Valentine never missed a beat, as she quickly beat down Chris before taking her place by Wesker's side.

'Now let's finish this once and for all. I think the odds are fair, two on two, right Jill?' Albert mocked, continuing his ruse as Alex.

The B.S.A.A. soldiers readily attacked but it was to no avail, as Albert and Jill dodged their onslaughts with ease. 'Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all I can spare to play with you,' Albert warned. It was true time was not on his side. With no means to subtly contact Claire, he was entirely dependent on her associate, Ms. Alomar to reach her. Sheva's troubled expression mirrored his own thoughts. The two B.S.A.A. soldiers bravely fought on, but it was obvious both were distracted. Not wanting to fight his former partner Chris opted to make an escape. Ever the fool, he tried opening the door they had entered by a short time ago. It was firmly locked, but that did not stop him from continuing to pry it open.

'Your future hinges upon this fight,' Albert mocked, his patience wearing thin. Disgusted, Wesker round housed his nemesis with such force that it sent the muscled warrior flying straight through the stone door and into the back hallway.

_'Spelling it out for them now are we?'_ William's voice mocked Albert's thoughts. 'I will not tolerate further delay,' he muttered through gritted teeth.

Chris called for a change in tactics, while Sheva suggested they hide. Albert merely watched on as they both scrambled away. Eying his watch Wesker casually entered the labyrinth. _Let it not be said that I am not a man of sport._ he thought in amusement.

'There's no point in hiding,' Albert taunted as he made his way through the maze of halls. In the shadows he could feel Spencer's phantom watching on. Distant memories from a past once forgotten began to surface, distracting him with a strange sense of unease. 'You-You're only delaying the inevitable!' he growled in frustration, his disconcertment for the moment ignored.

Chris emerged from around the corner without warning, firing his weapon without recourse. Albert dodged the bullets with ease leaving only his pride to be wounded. 'Self-righteous fools!' he spat through clenched teeth as Oswell's mocking laughter echoed off the walls and in his mind. His late creator had once spoken those very words to him.

The chase continued, with Chris and Sheva racing through the maze of halls desperate to keep their lives. To Albert it was little more than a test in patience as he waited for the signal that marked Excella meeting with Alex. Should time and distance previously recorded prove accurate it would be at any moment. As loathed as he was to admit it Wesker was dependent on Claire and her obedience to his instructions.

Heightened senses alerted him to the sound of Chris and Sheva's footsteps returning to the main hall. The fight was over before it even began the soldier chose to run over facing his assailant. 'I expected more of a challenge after all this time, Chris. How disappointing,' Albert sneered, re-emerging atop of the mezzanine that overlooked the Monarch room. Chris and Sheva aimed their weapons, yet neither bothered to fire.

Wesker's BDA chimed the time had come to depart. Activating the audio he barked out a 'yes' as he began to make his way to the hidden elevator behind the mezzanine.

'Albert, we have a problem. I trailed Alex movements since his arrival to the shipyards and did a thorough scan of the ship's cargo as it was being boarded like you requested. This is much bigger than either the B.S.A.A or Terra-save realizes. Bigger than anything we have ever encountered!' Claire briefly paused. When she continued there was no tremor to be heard in her voice. 'They're heading for the shipping docks as we speak. We'll have to move quickly if we're going to stop them.' The change of plans was not an unexpected one. Either Excella was playing him for a fool, or she was feasibly unable to part ways with the doppelganger. Neither prospect left much room for a desirable outcome. 'I'm going to follow them, so be sure to keep tabs on my GPS coordinates.' The call ended without another word spoken.

'Wesker stop!' Chris barked from behind him. Turning back to face them Albert smirked as he watched Jill spring out from the shadows. Knocking Sheva off her feet, the blonde fighter proceeded to throw her hard against the adjacent wall. Returning her attentions to her former partner the young woman performed the very deadly dance Albert had experienced in Monrovia. Chris, ever the hopeful fool, pleaded with her, begging her to 'snap out of it.' It was a fruitless attempt, but that did not stop the soldier.

With detached difference Albert watched on as the fight ensured. He could feel Oswell's phantom eyes boring into his back. _'Now you are the one controlling the specimen.'_ He stiffened to the old man's raspy voice whispering in his ear. Dark memories bubbled to the surface of thoughts, reminding him of a time when he was the automaton. A child puppet forced to watch helpless while his body_ danced_ to the tune of another.

_'Don't let him win. You are not his to control; not anymore.'_ Claire's phantom voice whispered in his ear. His irrational fears promptly fell under his control.

'Nice move Chris. But now that your _partner_ has arrived, I'll leave you two to catch up,' Albert said maintaining the ruse of Alex with ease. It was expected that Jill would continue her assault on the two soldiers. However, much to his amazement the fighter began to falter, as she struggled to resist the programming. Chris' continued attempts to jog her memory had finally paid off.

'Remarkable! Still resisting at such an advanced stage,' Albert noted torn between disgust and dismay. In his hesitancy he had almost lost control over Jill. It reminded him of a time when it was he who resisted the device while Oswell's researchers struggled to contain him. The memory brought about a chill that nearly robbed his lungs of all air. Closing his eyes, he forced his thoughts to return to the present. 'Commendable, yet futile,' Albert said. Unlike Jill, he never needed outside help.

Wesker activated the device used to control Jill. It was a cheap ending, not the proper fight he desired. However, Albert could not afford Chris stumbling upon the truth before it was time. The juiced up soldier may have been ignorant of the situation; Sheva however, was not. The young woman's sense of duty and loyalty ensured that Jill would be _rescued_ and taken to safety as needed. Buying Albert much needed time to tend to Alex, and retrieve the field data he had gathered.

'No more time for games Chris, I've got work to do,' said Wesker as he activated the device. Despite having never used one beforehand, he had witnessed others with the controls often enough to understand its basic functions. 'Have fun watching Jill suffer!'

'What did you do to her?' Chris demanded above her screams, which sounded far too much like his own of many years ago. As a flood of unwanted memories surface Albert quickly departed for the hidden elevator. He refused to let Chris witness such weakness.

_'Now you are the controller, where once you were the controlled. Perhaps we are not as different as you would like to believe.'_ Oswell's voice mocked, echoing off the elevator walls and through the haze of his dark thoughts. Albert did not need to see the dead geneticist to know the mocking expression he wore. The former Umbrella agent's hands began to shake, from rage or fear he could not say._ 'Do you not think this is what I have planned for you all along?'_ The old man's voice cackled as he continued his taunt. Albert clenched his teeth as he struggled to block out horrific memories he had once thought long forgotten.

_'Tell me subject 13, how does it feel to be the one in control for a change? Or is this still a part of your programing?'_

The sound of Jill's control device shattering between his leather gloves was Albert's only reply.


	16. Paths Cross

Upon exiting the elevator Albert soon noted he had arrived to the outskirts of the great port. It did not take long to catch sight of Alex and Excella departing for the massive Tricell tanker. Claire had warned him of their impending departure, and Excella shortly after had confirmed it.

His PDA revealed that Claire was nearby. True to her nature, the younger Redfield had found a way to remain despite her own mission with Terra-Save having reached its end. Albert suspected she sought the cure, or at least an antibody, something that would turn the tide to their favour.

_'Fool girl. Men like us care nothing of cures. The progenitor is a weapon to be wielded, not contained.'_ Oswell's voice hissed in his thoughts. He could almost hear the old man's cackle in the wind.

Albert scowled. The dead man's words did not trouble him, only the morbid realization of its inaccuracy. What was becoming of him?

Heightened senses alerted him to the distant sound of footsteps. Albert refused to acknowledge the relief felt at the distraction, or the uncertainty it fortuitously hid. His nemesis was a safe distance away but he knew it would not be for long, not with Chris' one track mind. With a sharp look directed at the smirking phantom of William Birkin, he departed for the docks, ever mindful to remain hidden in the shadows.

The sound of Claire's boot steps were loud to his sensitive hearing, alerting him to the woman's presence long before she emerged from behind a cargo canister. 'There's been a lot of movement around one of the Tricell tankers. The Majini were boarding heavy canisters, the sort used for pneumatics. Alex and Excella were also seen boarded that very Tanker,' Claire said in greeting, joining his side.

'I believe it is his plan to use an assault bomber to release the virus into the atmosphere,' Albert concluded in flat tones. To her credit Claire was mindful to keep her expression neutral, despite the flicker of surprise in her blue eyes. 'Yes, I captured some photos of the payload, and of the bomber. My guess it's stored in the heart of the tanker,' she said. Albert studied the images stored on Claire's on BDA; it was as expected. Alex was predictable in a way that reminded him all too much of Oswell Spencer. 'I don't understand what he hopes to accomplish by doing this,' Claire added with a soft sigh.

'More importantly, what does Ms. Gionne hope to accomplish by assisting Alex. The Uroburo's virus has clearly taken its toll on his mind. I have been monitoring his conversations with Excella, as well as Irving. He has grown increasingly nonsensical, deluded and strange,' Albert noted.

'I imagine she's got an agenda of her own. Either that, or he's fed her a very different story of what he intends to do with the virus,' Claire said. As they made their way to the large tanker he noted the lack of infected; Chris and Sheva were keeping the Majini distracted. He could see them approaching in the distance and knew it would not be long before their paths crossed.

'Regroup with Ms. Alomar and your brother. Inform them of your findings. Then inform your allies, the B.S.A.A. and Terrasave. I will tend to Alex myself,' Albert ordered, stopping in his tracks. Claire followed suit upon catching sight of Chris and Sheva's distant approach. With a frown on her lips she shook her head in refusal.

'No. I'll inform Sheva of what we discovered, but I'm with you till the end. This is as much my mission as it is yours.'

'I do not have time, or the patience for your self-righteous stubbornness,' Albert snapped.

'And I've no patience for your petty grievances with me,' she argued. 'Now, let's get moving!' Claire took off for the large tanker without ever bothering to wait for a response. Despite the interference of the Majini, Chris and Sheva were making good time; it would not be long before they would catch up with Claire.

_'The 'hero' approaches. I wonder what he would do if he were to discover that his sweet little sister has fallen prey to the machinations of his arch nemesis,'_ William noted with a smirk; his phantom visage visible in Albert's mind's eye.

Biting back a smart remark Albert watched as Claire weaved through C-cans before disappearing behind one of them. He had to keep moving or risk being discovered, still he hesitated. Having acquired viral samples of the Uroboros, as well as enough field data to confirm the virus' capabilities, there was no need to remain. Alex was not his problem, not anymore. If anything, the mad man was proving a perfect decoy enabling Albert to move freely without the constant surveillance of the world powers.

_'In his madness he will destroy the world.'_ Came a voice so clear in his thoughts that Albert looked over his shoulder, half expecting to see Rebecca standing nearby. He was alone.

'Why should I care?' Albert murmured. There was a time when he believed Spencer held the answers to all his questions. With the old man's death there remained only doubt and uncertainty. New complications built upon old ones. His leather gloves creaked as he clenched his fists. His life work had finally been retrieved, and Alex's viral mutation now was in his possession, what more reason did he need to stay?_Why remain?_ he mused.

_'Because you can.'_ Claire's phantom voice whispered, confirming the decision his subconscious had already made. Drawing his weapon, he departed for the aged tanker following the young woman's winding route so as to escape detection.

The time had finally come to destroy what was left of Spencer's legacy, and to finally begin creating one his own.

* * *

><p>The tanker proved far more vast and complex than Claire was initially led to believe. Her attempts to scan the ship's layout revealed only the rudimentary basics of the tanker's layout. Cursing her oversight, she had to concede that Alex, despite his obvious madness, was no fool. The elder Wesker twin had taken painstaking efforts to ensure that security remained uncompromised. While confident she could tap into his systems; she had neither the equipment, nor the time to complete such a daunting task.<p>

It did not take Claire long to catch sight of Alex and Excella approaching the tanker's boarding ramps. The Majini standing guard paid Alex no attention he was a carrier after all. Their lack of response to Excella however, was curious. It was not a matter she could afford to dwell on. She was confident Albert knew the answer to that question.

Not wishing to be seen Claire quickly took shelter behind a massive storage container. Tapping her BDA she activated a program Albert had created to reveal the locations of those infected with the Uroboros virus. _'It is rudimentary at best. Nonetheless, it will serve its purpose for the time being,'_ he had said upon transferring the program to her prior to their departure to Africa. Fortunately, it not only revealed the location of the Majini but the ship's levels and basic layout as well. Enough to guide her to the bomber without wasting unnecessary ammo.

Confident that Albert would soon join her, Claire carefully made her way through the winding stacked piles of boxes and canisters. She could almost feel his eyes on her, watching her from afar. With Beretta drawn she continued onward debating whether or not to contact Sheva on the progress of the mission. Chris believed she was still in the autonomous drop zone collecting information and assisting Terra-save in its attempts to help the remaining survivors. She had indeed, already completed that portion of her mission far ahead of schedule. To her sorrow, there had been no need for inoculations, doctors, or medical equipment. There remained no survivors in the Kijuju autonomous zone or in the regions nearby. _Nothing can be done to save them now,_ she thought with a heavy sigh, recalling Sheva's final words to her. _'We cannot save the dead, but we can fight for the living, and we must or we will be no different than the perpetrators.'_ The soldier's words had done more than to ease a little of her sorrow, it had renewed her determination to see it all through. Her fingers swiftly tapped the tiny screen of her BDA as she informed Sheva on the progress of the mission; a silent reminder that she is not in this alone.

Distracted by her messaging, Claire ignored the sound of footsteps approaching. Certain it was none other than her reluctant work partner she quickly completed her text. No sooner had the message been sent when icy fingers grabbed at her shoulders forcing the young biker on the defence.

Uttering a curse in shock Claire swiftly stepped back in a futile attempt to catch the Majini off balance. Instincts took control as she swung a foot between her assailant's legs before kicking out forcing the infected man to lose his balance. Grabbing her Beretta she whirled around firing a series of shots. The Majini took the bullets in stride it was not enough to slow him down as he moved to strike again. The sharp blade of the kukri barely missed her throat. A familiar sense of dread filled Claire's stomach as the sounds of more infected approaching could be heard. In her haste she had not bothered equip her gun with a silencer. It was a mistake that she could not afford. Recalling her training, she kicked her attacker hard in the ribs causing the Majini to briefly lose its balance. It bought her just enough time to make a mad dash towards a large blue C-can that had a ladder secured to its side.

Despite long hours of fitness and endurance training she could not ignore the weight of her additional weapons. It took longer than she liked to reach the ladder, and scaling it left her more breathless than she cared to admit. Cursing her luck, Claire briefly scanned the area hoping to find an easy escape route to follow. Collecting a grenade that she had stolen off a corpse along the way the biker debated pulling the pin. It would not be enough to stop all the infected, but it might be enough to slow the first wave.

The distant sound of gun shots reminded Claire of Chris and Sheva's close proximity. Desirable as back-up would have proven, she knew revealing her presence to her brother would only raise complicated questions and even more awkward answers. The sort he was certain not to understand.

It took little time for more infected to find their way to large storage container. Soon even dogs infected by the virus were joining in growling and clawing at the canister while their human counterparts began to climb up. Pulling the pin out of the grenade she threw it at the mass of undead before drawing upon the last of her strength to jump to an adjacent C-can. The explosion was deafening and the force of the blast nearly cost her balance. Quick to recover she continued onwards in a desperate attempt to distance herself from those who may have survived the fiery assault.

From the corner of her eye, she could make out more infected clambering on nearby storage containers, while others kept their distance. When she felt the sting of a crossbow bolt kiss her left cheek Claire understood why. As more fired their crossbows, the biker quickly dropped to her knees, barely rolling out of harm's way. Taking refuge behind a nearby steel divide, she winced to the sound of a flying dagger bouncing off its frame. A second too late and it would have lodged itself firmly between her eyes.

Unslinging the sniper rifle from her back Claire aimed for one of the infected archers and took a clean shot. To her relief the BOW fell lifeless to the ground. Immediately another took his place, only to fall prey to her aim seconds later.

For all her speed and accuracy there was little she could do to curtail the overwhelming amounts of infected that were rapidly nearing. The dreaded sounds of the infected filled her ears, just as the stench of rot accosted her senses. Uttering a curse, she stepped out of her hiding place so as to dodge the heavy club of an attacker, only to feel a suddenly blinding pain course through her shoulder. Biting back a scream, she side stepped in an attempt to move out of the archers' range, only to collide into the infected man she had moments ago dodged. Time moved to a crawl as she stared in horror as another of the infected swung his electrified club at her face.

Instinctively she closed her eyes expecting the strange rush of electrical shock and pain. Instead, she heard the coughs of a silencer being fired twice, soon followed by heavy thuds of lifeless flesh falling on steel. She turned around just in time to watch as the remaining archers were put down. All around her were the lifeless corpses of the Majini. Startled to the sight, she stared in disbelief at her unexpected saviour.

'Really Dearheart, who were you expecting?' Albert said with a smirk. Claire could not say what annoyed her more; the fact he just saved her life, or that she needed his help in the first place.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: Shiro01, thank you so much for your encouraging words and for your lovely review! I'm so humbled and so pleased that you hold my story in such high regard! I can only hope that I am able to maintain this high standard you have set for me! =D


	17. Interlude

It did not take long for Albert to locate Claire. The biker though thoroughly skilled, was entirely predictable. It was too easy to ensure his arrival was a timely one. With inhuman strength and speed he dodged his assailants with ease, before joining her on one of the containers. The Majini had her badly outnumbered despite her quick response and prompt execution. Instinct took precedence over all else, as Albert drew his magnum emptying a round first into her attackers heads, then to the archers across standing on the adjacent canisters. The dogs, what remained of them, had since run off, distracted by the noise of gun fire a short distance away. Chris and Sheva, quite possibly Jill too, were near. It was an unwanted complication but for now he had bought them a moment's reprise.

'Had you followed my orders you would not be in this situation,' Albert stated in greeting.

'I thought you were behind me!' Claire snapped through clenched teeth. To her credit the biker hid the pain of her wound well, despite the bolt that remained buried deep in her left shoulder.

'We need to remove the bolt and quickly. We do not have time for you to fall prey to your wound,' Albert said. Even Claire knew she was of little use to anyone in her current state. Gritting her teeth, she gripped the bolt that was firmly imbedded into her shoulder and closed her eyes about ready to pull the offensive piece out of her flesh. Fortunately, he proved quicker of the two. Grabbing her good hand by the writs he prevented her from removing the bolt before it was too late.

'Foolish girl, you want to bleed out?' he exclaimed in disbelief.

'What would you have me do? I can't exactly function like this,' Claire hissed snapped through clenched teeth. Albert gave her no time for further response. Collecting the exposed portion of the bolt in a close hand he swiftly snapped it in two so that only a small stub remained exposed from her flesh. The young woman breathed a sharp gasp, just as the colour drained from her face. Satisfied, he tossed the dirty bolt aside.

'We continue as before. The wound will be tended to once first aid material has been found.' Her eyes flickered with confusion and something akin to curiosity. Fortunately she had enough sense to keep silent about the matter.

_'Never took you to be the sort to play hero,'_ William's voice mocked. Albert could make out the late researcher's phantom form leaning against a cage that normally housed the infected hounds. With a scowl, he bit back a snap reply, choosing to ignore the man's snide remark. In the distance Chris' voice was heard calling out to Sheva, they would soon be on them. Albert departed from the canister and continued towards the ship's inner levels without another word spoken. It was easier to face the infected, than consider the true meaning behind the dead man's words.

Claire managed to keep up despite her wounded state. 'We best find the nearest exit that will bring us to the ships lower levels before Chris and Sheva catch up with us.' Her voice was quiet and tight marking her pain.

'So predictable,' Albert mused in dry tones. Claire rolled her eyes and said nothing further. If the information previously gathered from Alex's encrypted channels proved accurate the missiles containing the Uroboros virus was certain to be stored in the hanger. That was if he had not already loaded them onto the bomber. According to Gionne the payload was due to arrive at its destination in a few short hours. It would be more than enough time to accomplish what they set out to do.

Entering the ship's general offices, Albert immediately noted a rusted first aid kit nailed against the far wall. Claire's wound was certain to fester and worsen; a distraction neither could afford. With little effort, he pried the rusted first aid kit open and was rewarded with a wound roll of gauze. Beneath it sat a simple sewing kit. There was little else in the aged container.

Behind him, Albert could hear Claire rifling through the drawers of cabinets and the dilapidated desk in search of key cards or anything else useful. 'Found some!' she proudly proclaimed. In her good hand held a small spray can of first aid ointment; a fortunate turn of events. To his surprise, Claire gave him the first aid spray, before taking a seat on the old desk. Her expression was expectant, though she spoke not a word. Albert was accustomed to the young woman's many reactions to him; trust was not one of them. Removing his leather gloves, he cleaned away the blood that was oozing from the wound before spraying it with the first aid ointment. Though useful against regular infections, he knew it would do little to stem the tide should traces of the Uroboros virus find its way into her body. With this in mind he drew upon his basic medical knowledge to carefully uproot the lodged spearhead.

'You can't—leave it in only a proper doctor can remove it. You'll only make it worse!' Claire protested through gritted teeth. It took all his willpower not to remind the young woman that his studies in human biology and research by far surpassed most renowned medical doctors.

'The arrowhead will be infected, having been cross-contaminated by the Majini who handled it last. The sooner it is removed, the better your chances are of healing,' he replied instead. Claire did not press the matter further. With great care he removed the offensive piece of barbed metal. It took little for him to forget his surroundings as he tended to her wound. He could not recall a time when his skills were used on a specimen who was neither dead, nor infected. The realization was oddly thrilling. Using the ointment Claire had found he thoroughly flushed out the wound, before stitching the torn skin shut. With her wounds tended to for the time being Albert saw little need to remain put. With access cards duplicated, and the ship's layout long since put to memory he was confident this entire disaster would soon be put to rest.

Tidying up the first aid kit, as it was his habit he was fully prepared to leave when he noted Claire's pallor. Her skin once flushed from exertion had turned ashen. Her blue eyes normally so bright had grown glossy and dim. Her skin had felt cold and clammy beneath his icy fingers, despite the sweat that was forming on her brow. Claire was entering a state of shock. Removing his black leather long coat Albert neatly placed it across her shoulders. The lining did not provide much warmth but it would be enough in the midday's sweltering heat. Claire stared at him in disbelief, her blue eyes mirroring his troubled thoughts. It was not like him to react without a second thought. Such impulsive behaviour was better suited to the young man he had once been; before the virus, before Racoon city and before Spencer's dirty little secret had ruined it all.

'We should keep moving,' he said by way of explanation. Claire nodded and rose to her feet, the coat still wrapped around her shoulders. She swayed slightly before closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath.

'What I'd give for a glass of water and some painkillers,' she muttered under her breath. Such commodities would be available somewhere on the ship, most likely in the captain's quarters or the ship's galley. After clearing her head, or so it appeared, Claire gingerly slipped off his heavy leather jacket with her good hand, offering it to him she spoke. 'I think I'm well enough to continue.' It was a poor lie, but a necessary one. They could not afford to linger, doing so would only place their missions and ultimately their lives in danger. He nodded his reply.

Accepting back his coat Albert felt Claire's fingers, warm yet calloused, accidently brush against his own. Immediately, he realized his mistake. Disconcerted by strange yet oddly familiar thoughts and even more unwelcomed emotions he hastily put on his coat. Slipping on his gloves Albert tried to take silent assurance that came with the sound of the well-oiled leather creaking beneath his touch. In the past, it held the silent reminder that he was, and would always remain, in control. This time there was no peace felt. He could still smell the faint scent of her shampoo, and cheap body spray that clung to the collar of his coat. While the memory of her touch burned against his cold skin. Such lapses of weakness were intolerable. Frustrated, Albert silently swore not to allow it to happen again.

_'Is that truly what **you** want?'_ Rebecca's phantom whispered in his ear just, he stepped outside the dilapidated office with Claire in tow. He was quick to bury the thought.

_No._

With a single word, a single thought, his greatest fear had became reality.

* * *

><p><strong>Shiro01:<strong> Thank you so much for your lovely review! It means a lot to know that I have been able to keep their interactions realistic and hopefully true to their person! I do hope that I can continue this trend! Thank you again! =D**  
><strong>


	18. Change

Albert Wesker had little trouble avoiding the infected. Whether it was the progenitor virus that coursed in his veins, or his remarkable semblance to Alex he was veritably left alone. Claire by contrast, was not so fortunate. He tried to leave her behind. There was no time to linger and her wound was slowing them down. Ever stubborn, the young woman refused to part ways. Even Ms. Alomar's message affirming Jill's liberation from Alex's control device could not deter Claire from their mission. She argued it was better to face the doppelganger together than alone. Albert, though reluctant, finally agreed to her terms. The biker would make perfect cannon fodder should his mission not go as planned. The thought was banished before he could register the sense of concern that came with it.

'What will you do after this mission reaches its end?' Claire asked, breaking the silence that fell between them upon entering the vast tanker's inner sanctuary. The question was too flippant, too noncommittal to be a mere attempt at keeping their minds preoccupied. Claire was playing her game of morals; a first in some time.

'It has been too long,' he noted.

'It has,' Claire admitted, her lips curling into a subtle smile. 'I rather miss our heated debates.'

'As have I.' Claire was startled by Albert's admittance, but not nearly as startled as he.

The conversation ended before it began, as the infected made themselves known in the empty halls that had once been the living quarters of the ship's working crew. Their attacks, though vicious, were futile against their training and skills. It took little time for their corpses to litter the once sterile hallway. Moving forward, Albert carefully explored the rooms, noting with indifference that they were relatively sterile. There was no evidence or sign that any living soul had ever occupied the space. Having spent many years in the labs of Umbrella well below Racoon city such sights no longer troubled him. The ship's blueprints, procured several weeks prior, revealed the bridge was not too far from their current location. Given Alex's intentions Albert was confident he would be found there, most likely guiding the ship to its ultimate destination.

Approaching a particularly heavy door, the sort designed to protect against fire, Albert motioned Claire to stay put. She gave a nod, her knuckles white with the strength of her grip around her Beretta. Pausing, he listened for any noise from within before entering the room with Claire in tow. Albert was mindful to cover his surprise at the sight that greeted them. The blueprints claimed they were in the main control room. Instead, they found themselves in a small sterile lab filled with incubators used to grow the rare blooms the Ndipaya tribe once called _Stairway of the Sun_. It was an unprecedented stroke of luck, an opportunity Albert could not resist.

'You still haven't answered my question,' Claire noted from directly behind him. Startled from his thoughts, Albert glared at her in annoyance. Clearly amused, she grinned before turning her back to him as she took in her surroundings; her gun needlessly aimed at empty beakers, tables and various tools. Satisfied the tiny lab was safe, she faced him, expectant of his answer.

'I have not given it any thought,' Albert said. The answer was not to her satisfaction.

'So you do have a plan, you just don't want to share it with me,' Claire pressed on unconvinced.

_'She overestimates you', _ his subconscious mocked. In his mind's eye, Albert could see William's phantom shadow studying the plants, intently, a smirk playing on his lips. He bit back a sharp remark. It was better that Claire believed otherwise.

'It is no interest of yours,' he coolly replied. It was too late Albert could see Claire already knew the truth. Fortunately, she had enough sense not to speak of it. Falling silent, she began to search the room for anything of use. Having collected some of the rare bulbs in a sealed container, Albert soon joined her hunt for evidence and information. The silence was deafening, thick and heavy with impending danger. Claire slipped a full magazine into her gun the soft click caused him to instinctively aim his magnum towards the sound. The biker put her hands up, in a startled if not mocking gesture of surrender.

'You're even tenser than I am!' Claire exclaimed with a surprised chuckle. Humiliated at having been caught, he refused to grace her with a reply. Lowering his weapon he turned towards the door, when suddenly he felt the weight of her hand on his gloved wrist forcing him to pause.

'What are you going to do Albert?' she asked. There was no evading her question this time. 'Where will you go? The B.S.A.A won't bother bringing you to trial; they'll just shoot you down. Even if you are to use Alex's inevitable demise to start over-' Claire glanced away, her voice trailing off as she breathed a heavy sigh. The apprehension in her voice was sincere, as was the subtle fear reflected in her blue eyes. This woman who had no reason to feel anything but justified hatred towards him was genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. Baffled, he stared at her in disbelief, uncertain what to make of the unexpected revelation.  
><em>'Pathetic,'<em> Chris Redfield's phantom voice growled in his thoughts. Immediately, Albert looked to the lab door, half expecting the soldier to burst through it. 'Now is not the time for such discussions. I will tend to that matter when the time comes,' Albert snapped. Claire said nothing as she continued to study him with intent. What he saw in her gaze reflected his own troubled thoughts. Not caring to dwell on the matter further, he was about to open the door when he caught the sound of approaching footsteps. Immediately, he drew his weapon aiming it at the door. Beside him Claire did the same. Together, they waited with baited breath as the sound of heavy boots and the light clack of heels neared. The time had finally come to put an end to Alex's charade.

'Don't worry Chris has been thoroughly distracted by his reunion with Jill. I saw to that personally.' Came Excella muffled purr from beyond the steel door.

'You're certain she remains under your full control? I can't afford any further delays, or further failures on your part,' Alex thinly veiled threat was met with more empty assurances. It would only be a matter of time before the doppelganger would learn of Jill's release along with Excella's roll in it. With luck, Alex would tend to Gionne before they did. Tricell's princess was no fighter, but she was no one's fool either. They continued to speak, but Albert could no longer make out their conversation as the sound of their footsteps grew more distant.

'That was close,' Claire said, breathing a sigh of relief as she lowered her weapon.

Frustrated at the missed opportunity, Albert bit back a curse. 'Distract Ms. Gionne, so that they will be separated from each other. I will tend to Alex personally,' he ordered.

'What of my brother and Sheva?' Claire asked. Albert resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Her constant concern for Chris was an annoyance he could do without.

'They are not our problem, not anymore,' he said, tearing open the door with more force than necessary.

'No. But clearly, you have become a problem for me,' Came Alex's voice from behind him. Albert sniffed in reply. It was only a matter of time, he supposed, before the doppelganger would take to haunting his already exhausted and troubled thoughts.

'Albert,' Claire's very real voice immediately alerted him to trouble. Having worked with the biker for some time he had long since learned to pick up on the nuances of her vocal tones. Something was very wrong. It was then Albert caught sight of Excella's reflection on the glass of one of the incubators. The researcher was standing behind Claire, her Browning firmly pressed against her temple. Standing beside Gionne was the exact image of his person. He held in his hands, both magnum, and a hypo gun.

'I assure you, I'm very real,' Alex smirked, aiming the magnum at Albert's head, his finger tugging at the trigger.

Albert instinctively ducked, anticipating the inevitable attack that never came. Just as Alex aimed his weapon, Claire stepped back, forcing Excella off balance; crushing her foot in the process. Gionne cried out in pain, firing her weapon in the process. The shot went wide; the bullet embedding itself deep within the steel ceiling. Through the noise of Excella's shouts of pain, the firing of her gun, Albert heard the barely audible sound of flesh being pricked. Followed by the sharp intake of air filling someone's lungs and the sharp click of a hypo gun's trigger being pulled.

Indignant, Albert fired his gun in rapid succession. Laughing, Alex dodged the bullets with ease, as all around them incubators burst and shattered, littering the ground with shards of glass. Excella, having seen enough, made for the door adjacent to the lab's main entrance. Not about to back down, Albert lunged at Alex preventing his hasty retreat. Soon the two men were caught in a flurry of vicious attacks, deadly strikes and parries.

In the midst of battle, the former Umbrella agent caught sight of Claire staggering back to a corner of the room, her expression a mix of horror and shock. Firmly lodged in her throat was an emptied syringe. The very same one he had filled with coloured sugar water earlier. Unaware of his actions, Claire truly believed herself to be infected with the Uroboros virus. It was a cruel ruse, but one that needed to be maintained. There would be time enough to tell her the truth later. As if sensing his thoughts Alex spoke out. 'Those placebos you switched for the samples were rather impressive, if not futile!' he mused, just as Albert blocked a deadly strike meant to break his neck.

Time moved to a crawl as rage consumed his thoughts. Once again, he had played the fool. Alex's next strike met its mark with such force that Albert staggered back. His ribs throbbed in protest to the deadly attack. 'Did you really think you could fool me with that little swap job of yours?' Alex taunted with a chuckle. Behind him Excella gasped in shock; surprise evident in her porcelain features.

Having shared his little secret, Alex felt no desire to continue the fight. As his nemesis made hasty retreat, Albert took one last strike. Laughing, Alex sidestepped the former Umbrella agent with ease just as Excella behind him opened the heavy steel door. 'While I've enjoyed our little spar the time has come for us to part ways. I'll be sure to give Chris your regards,' he smirked. 'I do hope you'll enjoy researching my latest strain of Uroboros. I imagine it'll be your last.'

Albert did not bother to reply. Alex may have believed he won the battle, but Albert knew he had just won the war. _No thief is going to leave something that important laying around. If anything they'll keep it on their person at all times. Close to their heart, as it were._ Jill's voice whispered in his thoughts. Albert could not recall the mission that the S.T.A.R.S had been on, but he never did forget her advice. With a hint of a smile, Albert slipped the tiny samples of his life's work into his coat pocket. By the time Alex discovered what he had lost, it would be too late.

Turning back, Albert caught sight of Claire crouched in the corner of the room. Her eyes wide with fear as she stared at the door that Alex had escaped through. Between her shaking fingers, she held the empty syringe, as a trickle of blood trailed down her pale throat. 'Go now! You must stop him before he destroys everything! Hurry!' Claire pleaded in a voice far too weak. Her skin flushed only moments ago from exertion was now ashen, while beads of sweat began to collect at her brow. Had it been anyone else they would have long since been consumed by the Uroboros virus. Albert could only surmise Claire's exposure to the G-virus in Racoon City had provided some sort of antibody, or at the very least some resistance to Uroboros potency. Nonetheless, even with the young woman's resilience Albert knew it would only be a matter of time…

Before he could register his actions, Albert extended a gloved hand to Claire. To his immense surprise, she readily accepted his aid. Fortunately, she was in no state of mind to question his actions. Truthfully, he had no answer to give. Only that it was not at all in his nature.

'Contact Jill and get her coordinates. You will need the antibodies her blood contains,' Albert ordered, leading Claire out into the hallway. She gave a nod in reply, but did not move. Frustrated by her lack of response, or was it concern? Albert gripped her chin with a gloved hand, forcing her glossy eyes to meet his gaze. 'Focus on my voice, Dearheart. I need you to contact Jill. Now activate your PDA and do exactly as I say,' he instructed a second time.

At his words her eyes seemed to clear. Releasing his grip from her chin Albert watched with impatience as she fumbled with her communications device. Though took much longer than he would have liked, Claire was able to reach Jill, who was already enroute to the tanker via helicopter. Knowing that Jill would soon arrive, Albert made haste towards the helipad. He did not get far before he heard Claire's weak voice calling his name. 'Albert, where are you going? We must stop Alex… Excella went that way…' she said. She swayed like a leaf in the wind as she pointed towards the direction they had come from. Her conversation with Jill now long forgotten.

Returning to Claire's side, Albert offered his arm for support. 'Let your brother play the hero. He is, after all, quite good at it,' he said in dry tones. 'We have more pressing matters to attend and need to keep moving.' To his immense relief, she gave no further resistance, as together, they slowly made their way to the tanker's helipad.


	19. The Dividing

Claire felt the ground beneath her feet spin and shake as she struggled to keep up with the strange figure in black. Her thoughts swam as all the while her sight grew dark and blurry. Her legs moved though she could not say how, as her mind lacked any control over her body's movement. Her limbs felt strange; limp like taffy pulled too hard. Even her surroundings were distorted, stretching, twisting, and spinning so fast it gave her vertigo. Staggering, Claire fell to her knees as the black shadow-Albert, his name is Albert (whispered her scattered thoughts) stopped with a frustrated sigh.

'The time for stalling is at an end Dearheart,' spoke Wesker in a voice far too loud and too garbled for her shattered mind to understand. Her stomach lurched leaving her violently ill. Water and bile splashed against the metal floor. Her hands shook beneath the weight of her fevered body as her sight grew dim before falling dark. Cold hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her impossibly high off the ground; spinning, swirling, safe and sound. While the thunder of gun fire filled the night air.

Claire remembered nothing further.

* * *

><p>Albert caught Claire in his arms just as her body went limp. The biker was not as light as one might expect. Muscle weighed more than fat. Carrying her as a fireman would, so as not to restrict his movement, the former Umbrella agent continued onwards. It was difficult to ignore the heat that radiated off her skin, the distracting scent of her cheap shampoo and body spray.<p>

The sound of gunshots alerted Wesker as to who was approaching their location. Chris preferred the comfort of heavier firepower, whereas Jill relied on lighter models. Speed over strength, had always been her motum operante. The ground shook violently to an explosion nearby. More shots were fired, while the sound of footsteps clattering against metal neared. Albert had no doubts of the trouble that lay ahead beyond the ship's open deck. The helipad was nearby and well-guarded, as expected, by infected.

In the distance, the helicopter came into sight in preparation of landing. Albert could see that Jill had been thrown back by an explosion. Another man, a BSAA soldier rushed back to her side, shouting her name as he ran to her aid. All around them Majini approached, narrowing the escape route to the helicopter. Jill was clearly wounded, more a liability than an asset. _'So much for a clear cover,'_ Albert surmised in disgust. Helping Jill to her feet, the soldier slowly guided her towards the landing helicopter. As loathed as he was to intercede on their behalf, Ms. Valentine was still needed for her antibodies. Keeping that in mind, Albert made his presence known to the Majini. His magnum carried ten bullets, not enough to remove the endless assailants; it would have to do. Even then the infected paid neither Wesker, nor Claire, much attention.

Years of training enabled Albert to carry Claire over his shoulder while taking down the infected that rushed at Jill and her compatriot with machetes, sickles and blades. It was not long before he ran out of bullets. His efforts, though ultimately ineffective, had bought enough time to reach the helipad's ledge. The pilot, another of B.S.A.A's men, had stepped in as cover allowing them to make their way to helicopter. Taking pause from his firestorm the pilot offered a hand to Jill, aiding her onto the helipad. Valentine's partner, Josh as he was named, soon joined them, leaving only Wesker and his unconscious partner. Josh offered a hand so as to help lift Claire up. Albert hesitated, uncertain what to make of the gesture. 'We don't have time for this! Let me help you!' Josh shouted, over the din of the helicopter's rotors, and the approaching dead. Loathed as he was to admit it, the soldier had a point. With more care than he intended Albert allowed Josh to lift Claire over the ledge.

The infected, too numerous to count, were quick to close the distance. Taking Claire from Josh's arms Albert made way towards Jill and the pilot. Fortunately, both were too distracted with the approaching dead to take much notice of their presence. Josh remained behind, taking out as many of the infected as he could. 'Josh, come on! Move it!' The pilot shouted, urging the soldier onwards, much to Wesker's annoyance. Albert saw no point in waiting for stragglers. There were more pressing matters at hand. He could feel Claire's pulse growing weaker. The exposed skin of her arms felt clammy and hot to the touch. The young biker was transforming, evolving as it were. Even her natural scent, subtle and strangely inviting, had grown sour with the taint of the Uroboros virus.

Catching sight of a Majini with a rocket launcher aimed at them Albert took immediate control. 'Forget the straggler, we leave now!' he shouted, earning a look of disgust from Jill. Josh re-joined the group immediately after. The soldier was quick to help Jill into the helicopter, before offering Wesker a hand, which he ignored.

'Come on! We're clear!' The foot soldier called out to the pilot, who was still unloading precious ammunition on the masses of undead.

'Forget him you fool! Either we leave now, or fall prey to their rocket launchers!' Albert growled grabbing at Josh's arm.

'You don't have to tell me twice!' The pilot called back while firing a few more shots. Turning back, he ran towards the helicopter but it was too late, the Majini had released his payload. _Time is up._ Wesker thought with a heavy sigh as he watched the heat-seeking missile seeking out the helicopter. _Heroic right to the end; what an idiot, _came the familiar mocking tones of William's phantom. Albert could see the deceased scientist watching on with folded arms, wearing a cocky smirk. As foreseen, the missile that meant for them, had found the pilot first.

Satisfied their escape was not hinder as of yet, Wesker gingerly placed Claire onto the only padded seat in the helicopter. Behind him, Josh cursed loudly slamming his fist against the door. To his right Jill watched on intently, uncertain how to comfort the soldier in his grief. As if they had all the time in the world to linger. 'Mourn if you must, but do it when there is time to afford it!' Albert snapped.

Fortunately, the soldier did not argue the matter further; instead he took to the pilot's seat. 'I will fly. You two cover!' Josh called back. Only then did Jill fully register his presence. The hatred in her eyes, was easy to read, as was the confusion that lingered barely hidden in her sharp gaze. The former thief knew not what to make of him or what he was doing with her lover's little sister. Truthfully, Albert did not know what to make of it either.

'On it,' Jill barked, breaking the heavy silence without further warning. For the moment Albert Wesker was the least of her worries. Reaching for the sniper rifle that hung over the seats where Claire lay she took her place by the open door. Albert was quick to collect the other rifle that hung on the rack. His magnum, now empty, was of little use to him now. The helicopter slowly took to the air as the two ex-S.T.A.R.S members fired their weapons in rapid succession. The Majini continued to close in, their numbers seemingly growing despite the many infected taken down. The helicopter took to the skies, but there was no relief felt. Wesker caught sight of another infected preparing to launch a second rocket. Albert may have been quick, but Jill proved the better marksman. Where his shot went wide, her bullet caught the undead straight between its eyes. It was too late, the trigger was pulled and the missile was released.

The B.S.A.A. soldier proved to be a far more skilled pilot than Albert once thought. Thinking fast, Josh led them away from the impending threat. The missile exploded just beyond the helicopter's armour shaking it with such force that both fighters lost their footing. Claire's body too, was thrown off the cushioned chairs by the aftershock. Albert's body seemed to move of its own accord, as he caught the biker before she hit the steel floor. Shocked by his actions he struggled to find a logical reason as to what had possessed him to respond as he did. From the corner of his eyes he could see Jill's expression, a perfect image of surprise and confusion.

Too polite, or perhaps disturbed, to stare the ex-thief turned her attentions to their pilot, steadying her balance as she did. 'Nice flying,' Jill shouted, to Josh who continued to guide them away from the infested ship.

'Doug…He would have done better,' Josh lamented. It was one thing to be humble, quite another to turn a compliment into a means of self-depreciation. Wesker nearly rolled his eyes. Now was not the time for a pity party.

'I'm sorry Josh. He was…he was a brave soldier,' Jill answered in a futile attempt to placate the man's sorrow.

'He was my friend,' Josh admitted. 'If we don't help Sheva and Chris he will have died for nothing.' Albert smirked to Jill's lack of immediate response. He could only imagine Chris' reaction if he were to learn of his lover's hesitation.

After a heavy pause, Jill spoke in resigned tones. 'You're right, let's go see if we can help them.'

It came as no surprise to Albert, that Claire would once more be eclipsed by Chris' _heroic_ shadow. The anger he felt to it was another matter entirely. _Of course your need to defend Ms. Dearheart has nothing to do with those strange feelings and everything to do with her brother._ Mocked the late William Birkin in his thoughts. 'Chris can take of himself well enough without you both dropping everything and running to his aid,' Albert sneered. He purposely avoided the deceased researcher's gaze, causing the phantom to laugh in amusement. 'You want to play hero, then help his sister. She has been infected with a variant of the Progenitor virus. Unless you want her to die, I suggest you do exactly as I tell you.' Albert's words left little room for argument. It did not however, stop the former S.T.A.R.S member from making assumptions.

Horrified and enraged by his words, Jill whirled around to face Albert, her loaded Glock aimed at his head. 'What did you do to her, Wesker?' She demanded.

Ignoring both the furious woman and his late colleague, Albert removed his coat and placed it over Claire's unconscious form. _So predictable. It's no small wonder Chris fancies her. Too unobservant to register the obvious, too self-righteous to care._ William noted just beyond Albert's sight. Birkin's observation, as true as it may have been, did little to ease his growing impatience. 'Surely, that idiot Chris has not completely ruined your ability to see the facts at hand,' Albert snapped. When Jill refused to dignify his words with a reply, the ex-Umbrella agent continued as though he were talking to a child. 'Claire is dying. I need your antibodies to save her. What more is there to know?'

'What is your game Wesker? What are you getting out of this? Because we both know this isn't about saving anyone's life, least of all Claire's,' Jill retorted, closing the distance between them until the barrel of her pistol pressed against his brow. _That is the real question isn't it?_ It was Alex's voice that now taunted his thoughts. The former S.T.A.R.S captain clenched his jaw so hard he could almost hear his teeth crack.

'While we sit here and debate, whether or not my intentions are for good or evil, she continues to succumb to the progenitor virus,' Albert said. 'Now I ask again, are you going to help me, or must I do this by force?' Only then did Jill lower her weapon. In her eyes, he saw the truth he did not dare allow himself to acknowledge. That great and terrifying revelation which he knew would be his undoing.

Confounded and uncertain at what she had unwittingly discovered, Jill took her place by the chairs where Claire's unconscious body lay. 'What do you need me to do?' she asked. The former thief had enough sense to keep her thoughts to herself.

_Jill was like you once._ Albert heard Claire's voice so clearly in his thoughts that he immediately looked to her. As though she would be awake, watching him with sharp eyes, and wearing one of her, very rare, smiles. The young biker did not even stir. It was as though she was already amongst the dead.

'There should be a first aid kit just beneath the seats on the back wall,' Josh called out from the pilot's seat. Jill was quick to locate the field kit. Albert knew there was a slim chance it would contain a full blood transfusion kit. The helicopter was a military transport, over a medical one.

With a look of resolute determination, Jill shoved the kit into Albert's hands. 'Let's do this,' she said. Opening the box he noted that half its contents were missing; another had beaten them to it. Fortunately, some rubber tubing remained, along with a blood pack, IV Catheters, swabs, and antiseptic. There was not a needle to be found. Albert hissed a curse under his breath, while Jill rolled up the sleeve of her jumper. 'I trust you have a back-up plan?' she queried. Her eyes never left Claire's pale face.

In Albert's mind eye, he could see William leaning against the wall that over looked the chairs turned cot. _Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock_ the late researcher taunted, wearing a wry smirk. 'Not now,' Wesker hissed, glaring at the phantom that only he could see.

'Is something wrong?' Jill asked. Albert uttered a silent curse. It was not the first time he had such an episode in the presence of another. It was, however, the first time anyone had taken note of it. Furious at his slip up, it took all of Wesker's self-control to keep from silencing the ex-thief. The rage felt proved short lived.

Suddenly Claire's eyes snapped open, demanding both Jill and Albert's immediate attention. The former thief, ever impatient, was quick to assume the best. 'Claire? Claire! Hold on!' Jill exclaimed. 'She's going to make it after all!'

'Hold her down, Valentine,' Albert ordered. He knew better than to take it as a good sign. He had witnessed such behaviour in far too many of Umbrella's failed test subjects. Jill looked at him in question; uncertain to his motives. 'Just do it! That's an order!' Albert barked. His patience had long since run out. Jill obeyed, and not a moment too soon. Claire's body had turned rigid as though something unseen had pulled all her muscles taut. Suddenly, she began to shake violently her arms and legs struggling to flail about beneath Jill's tight control. The biker, now in a state of a grand mal seizure, was in the final stages of her transition. Albert knew it was now or never. Without proper equipment to administer the blood transfusion, there was little hope for success.

His fingers slipped to the leather coat he had placed over Claire moments prior. It now lay in a heap on the hard steel floor. It took little effort to subtly locate the two undamaged syringes that remained hidden in the secret compartments of his coat. The plexi-glass tube seemed to burn beneath the ice of his shaking fingertips. As his eyes fell back to the dying young woman, Albert knew he had to face the truth he denied for far too long. Continue down the path predestined by another? Or follow a new path, one of his choosing? Become the man the world knew him to be? Or become the man she believed him to be.

The time had come to choose. Both roads held the promise of victory. But both roads demanded a far greater sacrifice. Only one thing was certain, no matter the path followed, his manifest destiny would be changed forever.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's note: <span>**This was meant to be the first part of a very long chapter...However, to keep from putting everyone to sleep I've now divided it into two parts. As such, I should have part two up shortly.

Also a huge shout out to everyone who have been keeping up with this rather AU tale! A special thank you to the lovely guests as well for your constant support and encouragement! It really means a lot! 3


	20. Exit

The syringes shook between Albert's cold fingers. The crimson liquid danced, sloshing about within its confinements; well-hidden from Jill's view. He could not hide it from the ghosts that haunted his thoughts.

_What will it be?_ It was the voice of his youth, the once innocent child he had been. The phantom watched him intently. He was not alone.

_Do you walk this path, or turn away?_ It was Rebecca's voice he then heard; her shadow that Albert saw.

_Subject 13, I command you to complete your mission. Complete it or suffer the consequences!_ ordered Oswell Spencer's phantom, in his reedy voice.

_No. I am your subject no more,_ Albert tried to retort. The words never escaped his mouth. He could hear Jill calling his name, demanding he do something and quick. Her voice was hollow and distant as though she were shouting from many miles away. Time slowed to a crawl, as past and present blurred leaving the ex-Umbrella agent victim to the phantoms of his mind.

_Only you can choose the path you must take. No one else can choose it for you. Not anymore._ Claire whispered in his thoughts. Even now, she was challenging him with strange ideas and notions. Entranced, Albert stared at the young woman who was now at the mercy of a weapon he had spent his entire career trying to perfect. The Progenitor virus was more than just his life's work it was ultimately, the reason behind his existence. The bio-weapon had given him a purpose, a manifest destiny. With Spencer's final words all that changed. All that he had once believed no longer held the same weight or clarity that it once did. Albert used to think Spencer's death would mark the end of a life's journey; it proved to be only the beginning.

_What are you doing?_ Albert's subconscious mocked in Chris' voice. In his mind's eye he could see the soldier watching him closely, his lip curled in disgust. He knew what had to be done, yet he remained frozen in place. Somewhere in the distance Jill continued to call his name, demanding he do something. Withdrawing the needles from his hidden pocket Albert watched in wonder as his normally steady hands shook, causing the toxic fluid in the needles to slosh and bubble.

_What are you waiting for? Be done with it already!_ Rebecca's phantom pressed on. By her side the shadow of Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head. _How Typical. Umbrella's leftover still can't think for itself, needs its master's hand to hold its leash,_ the soldier scoffed.

Infuriated by the phantom's words Albert was about to make a retort when an ice cold hand grabbed his wrist. Nails dug hard into the flesh of his bare arm drawing blood, and forcing him back to reality. Albert immediately looked to Jill, figuring she would make an attempt to destroy the contents of the needles he held. The thief was staring at the biker in shock and dismay. He realized then that it was Claire, not the ex-thief, who held his arm in a vice like grip. Violent spasms wracked her body, yet she had managed to retain some semblance of control. With eyes hazy and bloodshot she seemed to stare right through him.

_I saved you once. You owe me as much._ Claire's voice seemed to whisper in his thoughts. In that moment, Albert saw a flicker of an all too familiar fire in her gaze. He compressed the first needle's plunger without ever registering his actions. As though in a trance, he drained the second needle, causing the last of the Uroboros virus to splash onto the steel floor. His fate was now sealed. As though sensing the decision made, Claire released her grip on his wrist, as her body went still.

'The needles are contaminated. But the antibodies in your blood will neutralize any traces of the virus. Now give me your arm,' Albert ordered. He was mindful to avoid her gaze he did not want to see the confusion in her eyes. It was easier to pretend, than to acknowledge what it was he had just done. Albert had no desire to consider his actions in that moment. There would be plenty enough time for that later.

Albert cleaned the needles with antiseptic. He knew it was a futile attempt against the powerful virus, but old habits were hard to break. With effortless skill, he prepared the syringes for transfusion. Claire's skin was translucent, exposing her veins with ease. Jill was another matter. Frowning, he sought a space to place the needle amongst the tracks that decorated the former thief's flesh. Jill, impatient or perhaps embarrassed, grabbed the syringe from his hand. Finding a space of skin that was not quite as damaged she pricked her flesh, beginning the process.

_Don't think, just do it._ Rebecca's phantom whispered in his mind. A needle prick later, and Jill's life essence began to flow into Claire's dying body. The biker was far from well, but Albert was confident that she would now survive. He refused to consider anything beyond the immediate present. Such thoughts meant coming to terms with his actions; actions he had no desire to consider. Neither spoke as they both watched Claire, waiting for some sign of progress, or any sign of further disintegration. As all the while, the helicopter blades droned like an ominous ticking of a clock, marking a countdown.

Albert's felt a twinge of panic as his eyes fell to the crimson puddle that lay near his feet. _What have you done Subject 13? Subject 13 I demand an answer!_ Spencer's voice echoed his troubled thoughts. Albert had no answer to give. The lies that should have come so easily to his mind had all fallen short of the mark. This was not about securing a new antidote or preserving a possible new variant of what had been his life's work. It was about something more, something he could not quite wrap his mind around.

'How long is it going to take?' Jill asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between them. When Albert did not respond, Jill breathed a heavy sigh. Reaching out with her good hand she grabbed an oily rag left on the floor near a tool box.

The phantoms of Albert's mind watched him, while he watched Jill in dismay as she carefully mopped up what was left of his stolen work. 'What have I done?' he whispered. The former thief did not respond. The helicopter's rotors had drowned his voice.

_You're fulfilling your destiny._ It was Rebecca who answered. In his mind's eye, Albert could see the young woman seated on the edge of the makeshift cot. 'And what might that be?' he wondered, his eyes drifting back to Claire's seemingly lifeless body. _Breaking free from the chains that bound you._ Rebecca's replied.

_Of all the Wesker children, you alone, resisted your master's will._ It was bikers voice that he heard in his thoughts, her shadowed form that stood over the real Claire's body. _After enduring a lifetime of conditioning and manipulation you fought back and won. You are now free to embrace the destiny denied you. _

Albert sighed to the phantom's words. 'No, it is all over now. There is nothing left.' The words sat bitter on his tongue.

'You've only just begun.' Startled by the clarity of Jill's voice Albert was startled to see the former thief by his side. He had no recollection of the former thief taking her place at his side. When their eyes met, Albert noted the surprise in her expression. It was oddly reassuring to know Jill was equally unnerved by her behaviour.

'Is everything alright back there?' Josh shouted over the din of the helicopter, breaking the unspoken reverie.

Jill said nothing; she expected Wesker to have that answer, only he had none to give. Without proper equipment there was no way to properly gauge the process of recovery. Claire's translucent skin was beginning to colour, her muscles once rigid had since settled. Her breathing was no longer hitched or strained. Even her eyes seemed to clear. Her irises once a bloodshot murky grey, were last seen fading back to a deep blue. Now it appeared as though Claire was taking a nap, not recovering from a near fatal infection. 'It would appear so,' Albert said, removing his gloves. He placed a hand against Claire's brow, noting her skin was no longer clammy, but warm to the touch. Her cheeks too, were regaining their colour. Even without proper equipment it was obvious that the blood transfusion had worked.

'She is far from healed. Her body will require more blood soon enough. For now it appears she is responding well to the transfusion,' Albert explained to Jill, who visibly relaxed to his assessment. Satisfied with the biker's progress, he carefully withdrew the syringe from Claire's arm. Using what little was left of the gauze, he applied pressure to the pinprick wound. Jill was quick to tend to her own needle, removing it from her arm with ease.

Pleased that Claire was going to make it, Jill was about to turn her attention to her own wounds when something unusual caught her eye. Only upon noting the soldier's expression did Albert realize his mistake. Rather the fact his left hand was now resting against the young biker's cheek. The way his thumb did half-circles on her skin; an action he had no recollection of doing. Horrified by his behaviour and the strange emotions evoked by it, Albert jerked his hand back. 'The virus, where is it?' he barked. Jill pointed to the oily cloth that lay in a heap in the corner of the floor.

'We'll burn it, and sterilize the helicopter once we return,' the ex-thief explained with a soft sigh. Both watched in silence as Claire's jaw clenched and her brow furrowed. She was in pain and that meant only one thing. However, Jill understood what Albert could not. It was an unexpected revelation, one neither would forget. 'I think—I think what you were doing was actually…helped.' She murmured in disbelief. Shocked by Jill's discovery, Albert's stared at his bare hands that had since clenched in tight fists. Surely, she had to be mistaken.

'This is not me,' Wesker's protest was met with silence. When did everything become so unclear, so undefined? And where would it leave him in the end? Not even the phantoms of his mind could provide the answers Albert so desperately sought.

'Maybe not. But once upon a time, serving in a police task force wasn't me either. People do change, Albert.' Jill spoke in a voice so soft, that he could barely make out her words. After a long pause, she added, 'even people like you.' Sensing his trepidation, Jill rose to her feet; making a feeble excuse that she was going to check up on Josh. She wanted to be sure that they were ready for anything, or so she claimed. It was true enough, but Albert knew better. He gave a stiff nod in reply; an unspoken gesture of awkward gratitude.

Left alone, with only Claire's unconscious form and his thoughts, Albert considered his options. It would not be long before they rendezvous with Chris and Sheva. Then the secret of Alex's true identity would be exposed, destroying with it any lingering hope of a quiet _death_. It came as no surprise that Jill had known the man whom held her captive was but a doppelganger. The former thief was a clever woman when she wanted to be. Her lack of surprise to his presence when he first boarded the helicopter had been the giveaway. Albert was certain Jill had it figured out long before her release from Alex's control. Studying the biker's form, he debated what was to come, and more importantly, what he should do.

Albert fingers seemed to move of their own accord, when he gingerly reached out to touch Claire's brow. Feeling phantom eyes on him the former Umbrella agent grew defensive. 'I am only ensuring her temperature remains normal nothing more,' he snapped. William smirked in response. Even Albert knew the excuse was a weak one.

Upon touching Claire's skin, Albert felt her brow unfurrowing, just as her jaw grew slack. It was just as Jill had predicted. Disturbed by the discovery, and entirely aware of the phantom figure of William watching on, Albert took quick stock of Claire's condition. Her skin remained warm to the touch, but not too warm, and the colour had fully returned to her cheeks. Her heartbeat was slow and steady, much like her breathing. There was little doubt that she would make a full recovery. His assessment was complete, yet his hand remained heavy against Claire's brow. Rolling his thumb over her soft skin, he felt an odd, yet not entirely unwelcome sense of ease come over him. Albert could not recall a time when he actually enjoyed physical contact.

It was not long before Albert caught the scent of sulphur in the air, and felt helicopter grow warm. Albert had little idea of their location, but he was certain they were nearing their destination. With heightened senses, he could hear the faint sound of gun shots being fired, and shouting over the helicopter's rotors. 'We're nearing the rendezvous point,' said Jill, as she emerged from the control room. She did not have to warn him of the danger Albert knew first-hand that Alex was not an easy predator to put down.

'It is their battle not ours,' Albert replied, as Jill kicked the virus soaked rag into a corner of the helicopter.

'No, it's all of our battle now,' Jill concluded, with a hint of a sad smile. From the corner of his eyes Albert could see Oswell Spencer smiling cruelly as he watched on.

'Not now,' Wesker hissed under his breath. Albert ignored Jill's questioning look as he grabbed the rifle that sat nearest to him. The magnum, his preferred weapon of choice, had long since run out of bullets. Motioning the ex-thief to grab the other rifle, Albert approached the helicopter's door. Sliding it open, he exposed them to an intense wall of heat and sulphuric smoke. Far below, on a lone piece of melting rock, was his old nemesis Chris Redfield, and Ms. Alomar. Across from them stood Albert's doppelganger, and in another life: brother.

'Grab on!' Jill cried out to them, before tossing down a rope ladder within their reach. Knowing the inevitable confrontation with his mortal enemy would come soon enough, Albert took a step back. Nonetheless, Chris was quick to catch sight of him. The soldier's expression was a perfect mix of disbelief, shock, and rage. Albert did not need heightened senses to know the former S.T.A.R.S member was uttering a string of profuse curses. From where he stood Wesker could see that Sheva had immediately taken control of the situation. Grabbing Chris by the arm, she forced him to focus on what mattered: their escape.

Though wounded, Alex was far from defeated. Albert knew their escape relied heavily on Chris having enough sense to keep from doing something stupid. Unfortunately, the elder Redfield was never known for his brilliance, or common sense. Wesker could only hope that Sheva would keep a tight leash on him, at least until they were certain Alex had been put down. The last thing they needed was a battle on two fronts. Withdrawing further back, he watched as Sheva made scaled her way up the rope ladder before being helped by Jill into the helicopter. Seconds later, Chris clambered aboard.

When Chris entered the helicopter Albert returned to Claire's side. As he neared, Wesker could see the biker was stirring awake. As though sensing his presence, her eyes fluttered open. As Claire stared up at him, Albert felt his cold bare fingers, being enveloped in the warmth of her hand. Startled by the innocent gesture, the former Umbrella agent briefly froze. Only to feel the sudden hot steel of a used gun barrel being forced under his chin.

'Who the hell are you? And what the fuck have you done to my sister!' Chris growled in low tones. Albert never had a chance to respond, when the soldier pulled the trigger of his gun. The ground beneath his feet violently shook, as an enormous clap of thunder, and flash of blinding light consumed his senses. Falling to the ground, Albert heard his voice screaming Chris' name. _How strange…_ he thought, as he slipped into unconsciousness. For it was not Chris but Claire's name, Albert had whispered through bloodied, dying lips.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's note: <span>** The end is now in sight! If all goes well we have one more to go, and then its Epilogue time! Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read and review my tale over the years. I know I've been pretty lagging with the updates but hopefully that will change in the future. Thank you again for all your support, you folks really know how to make a gal feel welcome! =D


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